


Vengeance

by xenascully



Series: Castiel's Army [1]
Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenascully/pseuds/xenascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester brothers are called in to assist the team in a ghostly case...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or Supernatural, but I love love love playing with the characters!  
> A/N: Sam and Dean won't actually show up in this first chapter yet...

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs strode off of the elevator, coffee in hand as he made his way toward the bullpen. Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was on his phone, turned away from his desk and clearly annoyed. “Because I have to work...” he said into the phone. “I understand you wanna meet with me, but I can't just drop everything and-” his pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in frustration as he kept being spoken over. “No I can't. I won't! You're gonna have to settle for waiting!”

Gibbs looked at Agent Ziva David with a silent question as he sat down at his desk. “His father,” she mouthed. Gibbs cocked his head and looked back over at his senior agent. 

“Dad, I'm sorry...what can I tell you? I can't just leave...”

Gibbs desk phone rang before he could intervene, and he picked it up. “Yeah. Gibbs.” He listened to the person on the other line for a moment. “Got it,” he said before hanging up and standing. He opened his drawer to grab his gun and badge, securing them as he watched Ziva and Special Agent Timothy McGee take his lead. Tony was doing the same, but still had his cell wedged between his ear and shoulder.

“I really gotta go, Dad. Please! This isn't the time-”

Gibbs took the phone from him. “Agent DiNozzo is on my clock right now,” he told Tony's father. “He'll call you back when he's off of it.” With that, he ended the call. 

“Thanks, boss,” he said. “And sorry about that... He's a bit possessive at times.” He picked up his back pack, slinging it over his shoulder as he followed the team to the elevator. But his cell began to ring again. Grimacing, he glanced down at it as they entered the elevator. He turned himself into the corner as he answered, doing his best to keep the conversation quiet.

“His dad is kinda going a bit overboard, don't you think?” McGee asked Ziva quietly. 

“He is demanding that he meet him right away,” she replied.

“Is there a reason?” Gibbs asked.

“No,” she replied. “He simply wants to control Tony.”

“Dad, seriously!” Tony grunted. “I have a job to do, and you're making me look like a complete idiot in front of my team!”

“Your team more important than your father? Those idiots have been trying to take my place as your family for long enough! Junior, I swear to God, if you don't do as I ask, I'll make your life hell!” his voice was loud enough that the rest of the team could hear it. Gibbs narrowed his eyes and felt anger rush through his blood. 

“They're more of a family to me than you've ever even tried to be. And do you honestly think I'm afraid of you?” Tony spoke loudly now. 

“Ya damn well better be you sonofa-” Senior's voice was cut off by a loud screeching sound and what was unmistakeably a crash. Then silence...

“Dad?” Tony straightened up, visibly paling as he turned around to face the team. “Dad, are you there?”

“What happened?” Gibbs asked.

Tony shook his head, “He was driving...I think he might've wrecked.”

“You know where he was at?”

“In town...not sure where,” he told him. 

Sighing, Gibbs canceled the elevator's trip and hit the button to take them back upstairs. “Change of plans, then. I'll have Vance give our case to another team. McGee, see if you can trace Senior's phone.”

“Boss, you don't have to do this...he's probably okay. He always rents cars with the OnStar system, so there's probably someone on their way to him, now,” Tony insisted, but his shaky voice showed Gibbs that he was a bit more upset than he was letting on.

“There's no guarantee he got one this time,” Gibbs said as the doors opened and they poured out and headed toward the bullpen again. “Try and call him back, Tony,” he said as he passed the bullpen and rounded the stairs up toward Vance's office.

McGee went straight to his computer; Ziva at his heels before moving to stand behind his chair to watch him work. Tony was dialing his father's number. He listened to it ring until going to voice mail. “No answer,” he told them as he ended the call and dialed again.

“Just keep trying,” Tim told him. “His phone's still on, but I'm having trouble with the trace. I've got a generalized area...”

Tony paced back and forth in the bullpen as the other line kept ringing. He tried a third time, noticing Gibbs coming back down the stairs as it began to ring again. Then he paused in his steps when he heard a clicking sound on the other end. “Dad?” The team glanced at him for a moment. Tim resumed the trace, moving faster now that there was an open connection. “Dad, are you there?”

“Junior,” came a weak voice on the other line, following by a gurgling cough.

“Are you okay?” Tony felt a twinge in his chest at the sound of his father's struggle.

“Your fault...stubborn bastard...” he coughed.

“There are other ways to get in touch with me other than wreckin' your car, Dad,” he said, attempting to defuse the anger and fear.

“Every...one y-you l-love...then y-you...” his breath came in quick, struggled bursts.

“Just calm down. Be pissed later...we're gonna get you some help,” Tony told him.

“I've got him!” McGee said. “He's two miles from here. I'll call an ambulance.”

“Dad, I'll be there soon,” Tony said as he headed toward the elevator with Gibbs. “Dad?...Dad, you there?” As the elevator doors closed behind them, Tony felt a sense of dread come over him...

11 00 11 00 11

As Gibbs pulled up to the accident, Tony in the passenger seat, an ambulance was parked in front of the wrecked car; a police car behind it. It wasn't until after they got out of the car that they noticed the medics had Senior on the ground, administering CPR. “Dad...” Tony scrambled toward him, stopped short by Gibbs.

“Let 'em do their job, Tony,” he told him. 

“W-what happened? How did he crash?” Tony asked.

“Looks like he blew a tire going pretty fast,” an officer told them. “Lost control and hit the pole head-on. Who are you?”

“I'm his son...He's my father,” Tony told him.

“Oh...I'm sorry,” the officer's face showed sympathy. “They've been working on him for ten minutes now.”

“Call it,” they heard one of the medics say, and Tony turned around in horror as they pulled away from their administrations. “Time; 9:37am.”

“Wait...” Tony approached where his father lay. “What? What are you...he's...”

“I'm sorry, Sir,” one of the medics told him. “We did all we could. He wasn't breathing when we got here and his heart gave out soon after. We haven't been able to get it back.” 

Gibbs watched as a myriad of emotions played across Tony's face; anger, confusion, guilt... Guilt was actually a shared feeling at that point; Gibbs was feeling it. He'd been the one to cause Senior's sudden anger... “Tony,” Gibbs reached out to put a hand on his agent's arm, but Tony flinched away. This flared the feeling of guilt in Gibbs even stronger. “Tony, I'm sorry...”

Tony looked at him and shook his head; his eyes brimming with tears. “Not your fault,” he told him. “It's his fault...he's gotta be so damned demanding... Can't handle when someone won't bend to his will,” he clenched his jaw and swallowed down the painful lump in his throat. Then he turned to his father's wrecked rental. Sudden anger boiled over in him. How dare his father do this! How dare he show up unannounced and demand his immediate presence, then when he can't get it, do something as stupid as recklessly speed through the city like some child... “You sonofabitch!” he yelled and put his fist through the only remaining intact window which was on the back driver side door.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs pulled his senior agent away from the car before he could injure himself further.

“How dare you do this to me!” he yelled at his father's body on the ground. “You selfish sonofabitch!”

“DiNozzo, calm down,” he turned Tony around to face him, holding onto the agent's arm firmly with one hand, and his other at the back of his neck. “Tony...” he looked him in the eyes, and Tony seemed to be pulled back from his own anger. What was left, changed his face into an expression of sadness and disappointment and he ducked his head to hide it from his boss before the tears could spill over. Gibbs didn't hesitate to pull the agent into a comforting embrace, allowing Tony's face to hide against his shoulder...

 

11 00 11 00 11

Tony didn't recall the trip to Gibbs' house. Only that he was now on the couch, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his torso. He was vaguely aware when his boss sat beside him, setting two mugs of coffee down on the table in front of them. Gibbs appraised him, taking note of how small he looked in that position. “Doin' okay?” Gibbs asked.

Tony turned his head to look at him, “Fine. Head hurts,” he replied as he leaned over to take one of the mugs. “Thanks for the coffee, boss.”

Gibbs nodded, watching the agent as he slowly drank from the mug. He wasn't sure what to say to him; wasn't sure what he was even feeling. But he knew he wanted to help him through whatever that might be. “You know you can stay here if you want,” he told him. 

“I'm okay, really. It was just...a surprise, ya know?” he looked over at him again. “I didn't expect it to happen. I wouldn't have...I mean I would've...”

“I know,” he told him as he picked up his own mug. 

“You might think you know a lot about my father,” Tony started. “A lot about me... Truth is, everything I've ever said about the man was an understatement,” he took a long drink from his mug.   
Gibbs noted the shiver that ran through Tony's body. “What do you mean?”

“All the passive things I've ever said about him in passing...” he shook his head and took a long breath. “He was always a...really angry person,” he began. “Always scared the crap outta me when I was a kid...thought he might kill me one day,” he swallowed. “If he'd lost any more control, slipped up just once...”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes; his gut churning at what the agent might be implying. “What are ya tellin' me, Tony?”

Tony's hand wrung around the mug as he closed his eyes for a moment. “My mom never knew... Pretty sure everyone else did, though. Just never did anything about it,” he smirked, but didn't look away from the dark liquid in his mug. “He drank a lot; used to come home pissed about...losing money or a deal or whatever...” his voice tapered off.

“He hit you?” Gibbs asked quietly. After a moment, Tony nodded, sheepishly. Gibbs' heart sank in his chest. “Damnit...” he cursed under his breath and placed a hand on the back of the agent's head, petting his hair, gently. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay...in the past.”

“Never okay,” Gibbs told him.

“It's the only time he really paid me any mind,” Tony revealed. “Never wanted much of anything to do with me, otherwise. Unless it mattered for public appearances. He'd always make sure to make birthday parties pretty unbelievable; invite all his business acquaintances and show off what he could do. Once my mom died, he just sent me away... Got me outta his hair. I'm glad I didn't have any siblings, 'cause I'd hate to think what they would've had to endure once his number one punching bag was outta reach,” he let out a small laugh and looked over at his boss, surprised to see the older man's eyes reddened as he looked at him. “Geez, boss, don't look at me like that...”

Gibbs shook his head slightly. “Shouldn't have done that to you, Tony,” he said in barely a whisper. 

“I know that,” Tony told him before looking back at his coffee. “I forgave him...even if I never told him as much. And I thank God he never had kids with any of his other wives. Other than that, I just never wanted to get in his way again. But sometimes he just...showed up; maybe to remind me he still had some kinda power over me.”

“Well, he didn't,” Gibbs reminded him.

“He seemed to still think so, on some level. Maybe he was right. I bailed him out last time he was here...ya know, with the hotel and all. And the way he talked to me today,” he shuddered again. “Like I was that defenseless little kid again...”

“But you didn't let him.”

“I answered the damn phone,” he looked at him again. “Twice. And I let him get to me.”

“And I pissed him off when I ended the call, DiNozzo. He was pissed because of that. If you're lookin' for someone to blame-”

“Hell no, boss,” he interrupted before he could continue. “There's no one to blame but him.” He looked back down at his mug, “I just wish...that our last conversation didn't have to be what it was...”

11 00 11 00 11

2030 hours...

Abigail Sciuto pulled up in front of her apartment and quickly made her way up to her door with her cell phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear as she listened to all the voice mail from the day. She'd been at a convention in D.C, then out for drinks with friends and had left her phone in the car. Thankfully, there'd been no missed calls from Gibbs. He was never fond of anyone being unreachable.  
As she reached into her purse to look for her keys, she listened to McGee's message. “Abby, it's me. I know you're out for the day, but I wanted to let you know...something happened.” Abby paused in her search as her chest tightened, expecting the worst. “Tony's father was killed in an accident today while he was on the phone with him. He's at Gibbs' house, so don't worry. Just wanted to let you know before you heard it through the grapevine. Call me later.”   
“Poor Tony,” she said to herself as she pulled out her keys. They fumbled from her fingers and dropped to the mat in front of the door. The porch-light above her flickered as she crouched down to pick them up. A shiver ran down her spine as it seemed to get cold, suddenly. She could see her breath as she exhaled.   
Then she was startled when she saw a pair of legs from the corner of her eye. With a gasp, she shot up to stand and look at the man who stood not a few feet from her door. There was a split second of relief at the familiar face, that quickly turned to complete fear.   
She couldn't even speak and she fumbled with her keys to open the door. Once inside, she dropped her purse and keys, but clung to her phone as she hurriedly locked the door and raced to the kitchen. Abby speed-dialed Gibbs as she rifled through her cabinets. The lights in her kitchen began to flicker now... Pulling down a giant box of salt, she was once again startled by the unwelcome presence, now in her kitchen. She jumped and began to back away.

“Sorry to have to do this,” the man told her. “I always did like you.”

“Go away!” she yelled as she threw a handful of the salt at him and ran for her bedroom. Quick as she could, she began to dump the salt on the floor, making a circle around her coffin-bed. It took her a moment to realize Gibbs had answered on the other line.

“Abs, what's wrong?” he asked.

“Gibbs!” she yelled as she finished the circle and jumped into the coffin. “I'm in trouble...”

“Calm down, Abby, what's going on? Are you hurt?”

“No...not yet, anyway. There's someone in my apartment. Something...”

“I'm on my way. What do you mean? Did you see it?”

“Yeah, but I'm really confused,” she said as she closed herself up in the coffin. “I know the man who's here...”

“Who is it?”

“It's DiNozzo Sr...”

There was silence on the other line for a long moment. “Abby...Tony's father is dead. Died this morning.”

“Well it's either his ghost or his twin, Gibbs. Either way, I'm trapped here...”

“Whoever it is, is he threatening you?”

“I think he wants to kill me...”

“Abby...”

“I'm hiding...please hurry, Gibbs...”

8 minutes later...

Gibbs and McGee managed to ram Abby's door down, weapons drawn as they entered the apartment. The lights had been flickering until they entered. “Abby?” Gibbs yelled as they moved through the house.

“Abs, where are you?” McGee called out. 

“What the hell...” Gibbs said as he saw the circle of salt around the closed coffin. 

Tim knelt down to examine it, “Just salt, boss,” he informed him. Gibbs holstered his weapon and moved to open the lid of the coffin. 

“Gibbs!” Abby's voice cracked in relief when she met his eyes. She sat up and threw her arms around him.

“Abby, what the hell happened?” he asked as he returned the hug; relieved that she was okay. “Your door was locked and chained from the inside. There's no one else here.”

“I'm telling you, Gibbs...he was here. He was covered in blood...wearing a gray suit with a blue shirt.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the description... That's what Senior had been wearing when he saw him last... “I can't stay here,” she said as she pulled away from him. 

“You don't have to,” Gibbs said as he helped her out. 

“I need to get to my lab,” she said as she hurried for the door.

“I can take you,” McGee said. “And you can stay at my place if you want to...”

11 00 11 00 11

“What was with the circle of salt, Abby,” McGee asked as he sat beside her in her lab.

“Keeps evil spirits away,” she said matter-of-factly.

Tim arched a brow, “Evil spirits?”

“I'm alive, aren't I?” she said as she glared at him.

“Abby, you listened to my message right before you saw him. Don't you think it could've been a figment of your imagination?”

“Please don't patronize me, Tim,” she said with a furrowed brow and she typed at her computer. “I know you all don't believe in this kinda stuff, but it's absolutely real.”

Tim sighed, knowing nothing he could say would change her feelings in the matter. “What are you doing?” he asked as he watched the monitor.

“Trying to find a number,” she replied vaguely. 

“To whose phone?”

“An expert,” she told him. “Two of them, actually. They're a team.”

“Who do they work for?”

“They don't work for anyone.”

“Well, how do you know them, then?”

“I...don't, really,” she glanced at him. “I have this...sorta friend. He knows them.”

“What are their names? Have you run any kind of background search on them?”

“I can't do that, Timmy,” she turned fully to him. “And you have to agree not to even so much as let anyone outside of the team know about this.”

“What are you getting into, Abby?” he asked with concern. “Who are these people?”

“This is something not even Gibbs can take care of,” she told him. “This is a completely different playing field, and these guys are the best in the game...”


	2. Chapter 2

As their restored, black 67' Chevy Impala barrelled down the open road, Dean and Sam Winchester were slightly at odds about the music blaring inside. “…and nothing else matters!” Dean sang with full heart.

“Dean, please,” Sam spoke up. “Stop singing Metallica! For the last two and a half hours, I've had to listen to Metallica. You're driving me nuts! Gimme a break, man!”

Dean grinned at him defiantly and continued, “Never cared for what they do!  Never cared for what they know!!!” the lyrics became incessant screaming now and Sam had had enough; he pressed the eject button and the cassette popped out. 

Dean had expected that and his grin got wider, “C’mon Sammy, relax!”

“How can I relax? It's bad enough we've gotta be on the road 80% of the time, but your singing...or should I say shouting?” he looked at him with raised brows, trying desperately not to allow himself to smirk. He wasn't angry with him. Slightly annoyed, yes...but he wanted to get his point across. Problem was, Dean knew that, too. “And what's with the constant snacking?” he asked as Dean unwrapped a chocolate bar. “You eat like a pregnant woman.” 

Dean choked back a laugh and looked innocently at the bar in his hand then looked back to Sam. Then he made a show of taking an exaggeratedly large bite of the candy.  
“Can we just have, I don’t know, maybe ten minutes of silence?” Sam pleaded.

Just as Dean opened his mouth to answer, his phone rang. With a satisfied, yet feigned innocent smirk, he fished into his pocket for his phone. Sam sighed, resignedly and turned to look forward at the road ahead. “Hmm,” Dean's sound of confusion caused Sam to turn and look at him again.

“What?” he asked, flatly.

“Anyone know we're on our way to D.C besides Bobby?” he asked, quickly flashing the unknown number to his brother.

“Not unless he told someone there.” 

“Don't you think he woulda told us if he did?”

“Are you gonna answer it?”

Dean narrowed his eyes before accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Is this...Dean?” the female voice sounded on the other line. 

Dean's face relaxed into a soft smirk, “Why yes it is. How can I help you?” he glanced at Sam, who happened to be glaring in slight annoyance at the inappropriate phone-flirting.

“I know this might sound hinky, but-”

“Whoa whoa, there...did you just say 'hinky'? Have we met?” he was clearly more interested now.

“Oh, um...no we haven't. I'm friends with Bobby. Well...not really friends, but more like acquaintances. But not really even...uh...look; I work for NCIS. But this is not really related in any way to a case. We can't do anything here. Not with what we're dealing with, anyway. That's why I called him to get your number. We need your help.”

“NCIS? That's like uh...” he looked over at Sam, pleading for the answer.

“Naval Criminal Investi-” Sam told him

“Naval Criminal Investigative...”

“Services, jackass...” Sam finished.

“Ser-” Dean glared at him before turning back to the road. “What are you an agent or something?”

“Forensic scientist and ballistics expert,” she corrected.

“Oh,” he smirked. “Uh...what do you need us for?”

“I was attacked tonight,” she explained. “Well...I was visited, anyway. By a ghost.”

“A ghost...” Dean glanced at Sam, slightly unconvinced. “How do you know it was a ghost?”

“Well...aside from the fact that it was a man I know to have died recently? I got to my apartment, the room dropped considerably enough to be able to see my own breath, and I made circle of salt around my coffin to keep him away; which worked, by the way. That was really good because I wasn't sure if it would...”

“Hold on...slow down. Your coffin? Who am I speaking to again?” he glanced at Sam who had an incredulous look on his face, clearly interested in the conversation now. 

“My name is Abby. I'm not a vampire or anything. I just happen to think they're intriguing. And coffins are really a lot more comfortable than you think.”

“You don't say...”

“Look...I know your situation is sensitive. But I really think you need to come help us out, here. I don't know who else to call...”

“Okay, listen. We're headed that way anyway, so we'll stop by and check it out. I'll call you back at this number in the morning.”

“What do we do in the meantime? What if he comes back?” 

“You said you know this guy, right? Any reason why he would've attacked you? You didn't kill him, did you?”

“Absolutely not! He was a very close friend's father! He died in a car accident this morning.”

“Okay...well have you talked to your friend?”

“No. I haven't... People don't generally believe in this kinda stuff. Hell, they don't really want to.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean sighed.

“What do I do?”

“What we would do is talk to your friend; ask him if the guy had a reason for wanting to hurt you. But what you need to do right now is keep yourself safe. Don't go back to your apartment. If this guy died on the road, but showed up at your place, then he's got a specific agenda he's not gonna sway from. You should stay with your friend.”

“What if that puts him in danger, too?”

“Just do what you did at your apartment, Abby. But this time, put salt down at every possible entrance to wherever you'll be staying. Every door, window, fireplace...everything. Oh, and Abby? Do me a favor and find out where the body is. I'll call you in the morning.” Dean ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his coat pocket. “Dude, call Bobby...” he said just as his phone started to ring again. “Goddamnit,” he fished his phone out again. “Speak of the devil,” he said as he checked the I.D. “Bobby! Just got an interesting call...”

11 00 11 00 11

“Abby, this is insane,” Tim said as he watched her fill the hand-basket with containers of salt where they stood in the grocery store.

“It's necessary, Timmy. Don't start with me. Now call Gibbs and tell him we're coming over.”

“It's almost midnight,” he protested.

“You're kidding me, right?” she glared at him. “You really think Gibbs is sleeping right now?”

“Good point...What am I supposed to tell him?”

“Tell him I'm crazy! Tell him whatever you want, but we're staying there tonight!”

“Wait...we?”

“Yes, we...now call!”

11 00 11 00 11

“I'm sorry, boss,” McGee said as Abby methodically lined the window sills with salt. “I think she might be having some kind of...breakdown.”

“If it makes her feel safe, then just let her do it,” Gibbs replied. “Too tired to argue her out of it tonight.”

Tim nodded. “Is Tony still here?” he asked.

“Up in the guest room,” he told him.

“Is he doing okay?”

Gibbs shrugged, “Not sure. He's been sleepin' for a few hours.”

“So he doesn't know about what happened to Abby...”

“I need to do this upstairs, too,” Abby said as she brushed past them and headed for the stairs. “McGee, are you gonna make me do all this myself?” McGee sighed in defeat and Gibbs smirked. 

11 00 11 00 11

Dean threw his bag down at the foot of one of the double beds in their hotel room and plopped down on the bed with a sigh. Sam locked the door and made his way to his own bed. “You think she'll be okay till morning?” he asked.

“It's already technically morning, Sammy,” Dean groaned, sleepily. “We've been on the road for hours and I'm tired. Besides, we're not even sure there is a case, here. She could just be out of her mind. We've got bigger fish to fry while we're here, don't forget.”

“Bigger fish...that we're just as unsure about being an actual case, either,” he retorted before sprawling out on his bed.

“Either way, I'm going to sleep now. So can it. Wake me up when it's morning...”

11 00 11 00 11

Abby saved the guest room window for last, so as to not wake Tony. She quietly poured a generous layer of salt across the window sill. A storm could be heard in the distance and lightning flashed, sending a shiver down her spine. She looked out the window as she finished. It was hard to see anything in the dark. She could make out the street light, which was flickering slightly in the distance.  
The shiver ran up her spine once more and she suddenly felt cold. When her breath began to fog the window, she felt a familiar pang of fear. Lightning flashed again and that's when she saw him; right in front of her on the other side of the window...for a split second, she saw him. She gasped and dropped the container of salt to the floor. But by the next flash, Senior was gone. The temperature returned to normal...

“No...” Tony murmured in his sleep and Abby spun around to see him as he began to thrash around on the bed. “No, Dad...leave him alone...” 

“Tony?” Abby approached the bed. His nightmare-induced fear grew stronger, and Gibbs was suddenly in the room and kneeling on the edge of the bed. “What's wrong with him, Gibbs?” she asked worriedly. 

“Stop! Stop it, Dad! Leave him alone!” Tony screamed.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs took hold of the agent's shoulders. Tony's eyes shot open as he sprung upright into a sitting position, then grasped his head on both sides; eyes slamming shut before a constricted scream left his throat. “Tony, what's happening? What's wrong?” he panicked at the sight of the obvious pain the agent was in. Tony's face contorted as his pain seemed only to worsen, and he began to fall forward, but Gibbs caught him and held him against his chest. “Abby, call Duck...”

Abby scurried out of the room, bumping into McGee in the hall. “Abs, what's wrong? Is Tony okay?”

“No, he's not...something's wrong with him. I've gotta call Ducky,” she brushed past him to find her phone. McGee approached the doorway to the room; fear causing an ache in his chest as he heard the pained cries coming from his friend who was clutching at his temples and being held up by Gibbs.

“Boss?” he asked as he entered. “Is there something I can do?”

“Don't know, Tim,” he replied in a helpless tone that caused the agent to flinch. “Maybe bring him some water?” he suggested, glancing over at him. 

“On it,” he nodded and hurried out of the room. 

Gibbs felt Tony begin to lax in his arms; his cries turning into gasps for air. His arms dropped to the mattress and Gibbs put his hands back on his shoulders to push him slightly away and look at his face. “You with me?” he asked.

“Boss?” he met his eyes. 

“You in pain?”

“Not...anymore,” he looked confused for a moment. Then his eyes lit up with realization. “Ducky!” he tensed. 

“Calm down, Tony. We're gonna get him here to help.”

“No...Ducky's in danger. My father...” the sentence tapered off as he became confused at his own words.

“You had a nightmare,” Gibbs explained. “But that pain you were just in, I think you should see a doctor.”

“Gibbs, Ducky isn't answering,” Abby said as she returned to the room. “Tony? Are you okay?” she hurried to sit on the other side of the bed.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” he assured her. “Ducky's probably asleep. I'll be fine till morning, I'm sure.”

“I've got the water, and some aspirin,” McGee said as he entered the room. 

“Thanks, Probie,” Tony said. “But I think I'm okay. What...what the hell are you all doing here?” he asked as he pushed back against the headboard and took the water from Tim.

“Abby...uh-” Tim began.

“I had a problem at my apartment,” she interjected. “Tim brought me over here.” She scooted further onto the bed so she was right beside Tony, and slid her arms around him, putting her head gently against his. “I'm sorry about what happened, Tony,” she said quietly. 

He placed a hand on the arm that draped across his chest. “Thanks, Abs.”

“Are you gonna be able to go back to sleep?” she asked.

“Actually, I think I'm gonna get up for a while. I'm a little hungry. Got anything to eat, boss?”

Gibbs nodded just as his cell rang. He stood as he fished it out of his pocket. “Yeah. Gibbs.”

“Gibbs, I am sorry to call you so late, but...” Ziva's voice sounded frightened on the other line, which was more than surprising to him.

“Ziva...everything okay? Where are you?”

“I am fine. I was on the phone with Ducky after I left the office. He did not sound good. I called an ambulance, but I am on my way over there right now.”

“Did he call you?” 

“I called him, actually. I had...a medical question. But that is beside the point. Gibbs, I am worried; he did not hang up, just simply could no longer speak. He sounded...frightened.”

“You call me when you get there, Ziver. If I don't make it to the house, let me know where they take him,” he ended the call.

“Boss?” McGee asked him as he followed him into the hall.

“Ducky may be sick,” Gibbs replied. “I need to go see if he's okay.”

“You can't leave here, Gibbs!” Abby said as she and Tony came out into the hall. Gibbs turned and started down the stairs.

“What's going on?” Tony asked with a furrowed brow as they followed after him. “What's all over the floor?” he inquired when he saw the salt in front of the door.

“Gibbs, you might think I'm crazy or delusional or something, but you've gotta just trust me! Please!” she reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned to face her, glaring as he did. “Ziva's gonna be there with him. You trust her to keep him safe, right? He's not gonna be alone. You don't need to go...just wait till morning. Please, Gibbs...” the pleading in her eyes caused him to pause in his thinking. 

He glanced up at a confused Agent DiNozzo and a worried McGee. Clearly, he'd need to stay here in case Tony was seriously sick, and Abby seemed to be genuinely terrified. Not to mention, the strange moment not ten minutes earlier, when the room seemed to go cold... That, he couldn't explain. “Okay,” he resigned. “You still hungry, DiNozzo?” he asked as he headed toward the kitchen.

Tony followed him. “Ducky's sick? Did she say what happened?”

“She was on the phone with him and he stopped talkin'. Ambulance is on their way there,” he said as he opened the fridge. 

“Kinda weird,” Tony said as he sank down into a chair at the table.

“What's that?” he asked as he began preparing a sandwich.

“That I had a dream Duck was in trouble, and suddenly he's sick.”

“You got super powers now?” he smirked.

“That'd come in handy, I'm sure,” Tony returned the smirk. 

“Eat,” Gibbs said as he set the plate down in front of him. 

“Thanks, boss.” Gibbs pulled out his phone and dialed Ziva's number. McGee came into the kitchen and sat down at the table, seemingly distracted. “So, what happened at Abby's place?” Tony asked. 

Tim looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Uh...well...I think she was kinda overtired, maybe. She said...she saw a ghost. Freaked her out a little. Well...a lot, really.”

“A ghost?” he laughed. “That's a little...odd, even for Abby.”

“You don't know the half of it,” he sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. “That's what all the salt is for; keeping out the ghost.” 

“Why would salt keep a ghost out?” 

“I...have no idea,” Tim replied. After a long moment of contemplation, they both laughed.

20 minutes later...

“Ziva says Ducky was is bed when they found him,” Gibbs told Abby as they sat on the couch. “He was unconscious. They're running some tests; they think he might've had a mild heart attack,” he said sadly. 

“But...Ducky's healthy,” Abby protested. “How could this have happened?”

“I dunno, Abs,” he said, pulling her to his side in effort to comfort her. “But he's gonna be okay.” 

*~.~*

“I don't think I've ever seen you eat so slow,” Tim said as Tony took the last bite of his sandwich.

“Honestly, I was forcing most of that down. Wasn't as hungry as I thought, but didn't wanna make the boss feel bad makin' me something I'd end up wasting.”

McGee chuckled and stood from the table. “Lemme take your plate,” he said as he picked it up and brought it to the sink. “You gonna go crash now?”

“Think I might just watch some TV,” he said as he stood.

As McGee turned around, Tony suddenly doubled over, grasping at either side of his head again. “Tony?” he was quickly in front of him, catching him before he could fall over. Tony's eyes were once again squeezed shut as he cried out against the pain. “Tony!”...


	3. Chapter 3

“Sit him down!” Gibbs said as he entered the kitchen at the sound of Tony's cry. He helped McGee get him to the chair. “Tony, can you hear me?” His only reply was a gut-wrenching scream as he doubled over in the chair. “Abby, call an ambulance!” Gibbs shouted. “McGee, help me get him to the couch before he breaks his neck fallin' off this chair.”   
With Abby frantically speaking to the dispatcher on her phone, Tim and Gibbs carefully led Tony to the couch...

He sees Ziva. She's in a bathroom at the sink, washing her hands. She looks up at her reflection and she jumps... she is not alone.  
Behind her, she sees Tony's father. She spins around, but he's gone. She swallows, then shakes her head, brushing it off as lack of sleep. She reaches for a paper towel and quickly dries her hands. But as she turns to throw it away, he's back...  
She turns to run toward the door, but she's suddenly flying back against the wall, pinned there.   
She screams...

Tony's eyes fly open to the side of the coffee table, and he can feel himself gasping for breath. There are hands on his arm and back, and he can hear someone talking. But he can't quite make out who or what is being said.  
“DiNozzo,” he hears Gibbs' voice clearly now. “You okay? Ya hear me?” 

Tony became aware he was on the couch, curled up on his side. Cautiously, trying to avoid the pain in his head to return, he pushed himself up to sit. “'Nother headache,” he said. “Think I'm okay now.”

“More than a headache,” Gibbs said as he moved to sit beside him. “I'm no doctor, but I sure as hell know that's not normal.”

“What's going on, Tony?” Abby asked, worriedly as she sat down beside him and handed him a glass of water. “I don't recall you getting any head injuries lately.”

“I get hit in the head every day, Abs,” he smirked.

“The bossman's love taps? I'm pretty sure if they were gonna cause brain damage, it would've happened a long time ago.”

“I don't have brain damage,” he narrowed his eyes at her. McGee stood anxiously near the front door as he quietly listened to the conversation.

“Well, regardless, you're getting checked out,” Gibbs told him. “Paramedics are on their way here.”

“Aw, boss, c'mon,” he protested. “I'm fine, really. I'm fine now.”

“For how long?” Gibbs asked, meeting his eyes. Tony's face relaxed as he accepted his fate. But just as quickly, he came back into sudden realization of what he'd seen through that pain. Gibbs read the sudden tenseness on his agent's face. “What is it?” he asked. Tony closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Come on, Tony. What's goin' on?”

Tony opened his eyes but kept them fixed on the floor, “Ziva...” he said in barely a whisper.

“She's at the hospital with Ducky,” Gibbs reminded him. “Just spoke with her not long ago.” Tony simply nodded, brushing off the strange nightmare...

11 00 11 00 11

It was just barely four in the morning when a soft knocking began at the front door. Abby hadn't been able to sleep, and neither had Gibbs. They'd stayed up watching over Tony who was curled up sleeping on the couch. The paramedics couldn't find any reason to bring him to the hospital, but suggested making an appointment to have some tests run in the near future.   
Gibbs stood and made his way to the door quickly, hoping to stop the possibility of waking Tony this early. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Ziva, and even more surprised to see the unfamiliar look of fear in her eyes. “Ziva? What's wrong? Is it Ducky?” he asked, a sudden feeling of fear hitting his chest.

She shook her head and brushed past him into the house. “I...need to stay here for a while, Gibbs,” she told him; her voice quiet and shaky. 

Gibbs shut and locked the door, then led her into the kitchen into the light and realized that she was hurt. Her clothes and hair were disheveled and there was dried blood at her hairline. “What happened to you?” he asked as he sat her down at the table and assessed her.

“Oh my god, Ziva,” Abby exclaimed quietly as she moved to stand beside Gibbs and look her over as well.

“I am fine,” she insisted. “But I think I may be losing my mind.” Tears began to form in her eyes and she looked down at her lap where her hands fidgeted together.

“What do you mean?” Gibbs asked as her pulled a chair up to sit in front of her. Ziva was noticeably shaky as she hesitantly wiped a hand down her face then stuck it back into her lap. Her eyes darted around aimlessly, as though she was unsure or ashamed of what she wasn't saying. “Ziver?”

She met his eyes for just a moment, “I called Ducky last night because...I thought...I saw someone standing in front of my desk. Just for a moment...standing there, and then he was gone.” She took several breaths before continuing, “Then I saw him again at the hospital. Somehow...I ended up against the wall. I do not remember anything after that; just waking up on the floor and coming here. I did not know what else to do...”

“Who did you see?” Gibbs asked. She closed her eyes and shook her head; a tear escaping and cascading down her cheek. “Ziva, who?” he pressed.

She opened her eyes to his, taking a breath before giving in. “Tony's father...” 

Abby's wide eyes met Gibbs', just before he glanced at Tony's sleeping form on the couch. “Abs, help Ziva upstairs; get cleaned up and take my bed,” he told them. “McGee's in the guest bed, and I'm not plannin' on sleepin' any time soon.”

*~.~*

It wasn't long after Abby and Ziva ascended the stairs that Tony began to whimper in his sleep. Gibbs made his way to the couch, preparing for another headache to assault his agent. But as he sat on the edge of the coffee table and appraised the agent's appearance, he realized that he wasn't in pain; wasn't clutching at his head. His arms were wrapped around himself; his eyes moving rapidly under his lids...

“You selfish little shit!” his father yelled in a drunken haze. “You're really going to stand there and cry because I couldn't come to your stupid little ball game? Don't you know how busy I am? How hard it is without you mother around anymore?”

Tony flinched as the giant man stormed toward him with fire in his eyes. “Daddy, I'm sorry...” he tried to stop crying. But he wasn't just upset about his father missing the game. He missed his mother... All he wanted to do was impress his father; give him a reason to love him. 

“I said to stop crying, Junior! DiNozzo's do not cry! Men do not cry!” But he wasn't a man; he was just a little boy. And he tried...he tried to stop. But the fear made it impossible. Before he knew what was happening, he was lifted off the ground and held firmly against the wall; his father's hand holding him up there by his throat. He couldn't breathe; couldn't make a sound... His feet scraped back against the wall in desperate effort to ease the tension on his neck...

Gibbs watched, dumbfounded, as Tony began frantically pulling at the collar of his shirt, kicking his legs. That's when he realized the agent wasn't breathing...his face reddening at the struggle. Gibbs took action, suddenly thrust back into reality as he grabbed Tony's wrists, “Tony, wake up! You're dreaming!” he said, loud enough to jolt him from his sleep without waking everyone else in the house.   
Tony's eyes flew open at the sound of his boss's voice, and he sucked in a frantic breath, shooting to sit up from his position on the couch. His hands searched his neck as he slowly returned from the haze of his nightmare/flashback.   
“You okay?” Gibbs asked, softly. Tony nodded, sheepishly, as he attempted to regain a normal pattern of breathing. “Hey,” he gently took hold of the agent's chin so he could see his face. That's when he realized that Tony had been crying in his sleep; tracks evident, though almost dry. It didn't take Gibbs long to figure out what his agent must have been dreaming about. “How often you have these nightmares?” 

Tony took a breath. “Haven't in a long time,” he replied, quietly. Then he was suddenly aware of the wetness on his cheeks, rushing to wipe it all away. “'M sorry, boss...” 

“No,” Gibbs shook his head. “Don't apologize for the shit your father put you through, DiNozzo,” he told him. 

Tony shook his head almost imperceptibly. So pathetic...I'm so godamn pathetic. “Gotta use the head,” his voice cracked as he stood and rushed up the hall toward the bathroom. 

Abby came down the stairs in that moment, watching as Tony disappeared behind the door. “Gibbs,” she said quietly, and he stood, glancing at her for a moment before returning to the kitchen. She followed him. “Now do you believe me?” she asked in a hushed voice, almost whispering. 

“Abs-”

“How can you not?! After everything that's happened! I saw him, Gibbs. So did Ziva, and probably Ducky, too. Tony said Ducky was in danger. Then after the second headache, he thought Ziva was, too. After everything that's been happening, how can you still not believe? You don't believe in coincidences, Gibbs. You can't explain this any other way...”

“Yeah, I can,” he retorted. “Someone is playin' a sick joke.”

“And what?” she narrowed her eyes. “Sending premonitions electronically to Tony's brain?” Frustrated, Gibbs ran both hands roughly down his face.

“What are you talking about?” Tony appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, and Abby spun around to face him. She clamped her mouth shut, suddenly unwilling to ramble. Tony took a few steps toward her. “What's going on? I think I have a right to know. Premonitions?”

“That first headache, upstairs,” Gibbs said as he took a few steps to be at Abby's side. “What'd you see?”

Tony straightened, suddenly uncomfortable. “I told you... I saw Ducky.”

“What happened?” he pushed.

“It was a dream, boss. Just a dream...” Gibbs held the glare until he could physically see the agent give in. “I saw him...sitting up in bed. He was...terrified.”

“Of what?”

Tony's eyes darted back and forth between the two people standing in front of him. “My father...” he replied. “He was just standing there...looking like...he wanted to kill him.”

“And the second headache, you saw Ziva,” Abby spoke. “Was your father there, too?”

Tony swallowed, nervously. Then nodded. “He uh...he was choking her; holding her up against the wall. Why are you asking me this?”

“Because...I saw him, Tony,” Abby told him. “So did Ziva.”

“What?”

“She thinks she's losing her mind, but I saw him! She showed up here after being attacked!”

“She's here?” his brows raised. “Where is she?”

“She's sleeping upstairs,” Gibbs said, grabbing Tony's arm before he could take off. 

“I dunno whose idea of a sick joke this is, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit around and watch my friends suffer because of it!” Tony yelled.

“We can't do anything about it, Tony,” Abby said. “But I know who can. They'll be in town in a couple of hours. They know how to deal with this kinda stuff...I promise everything's gonna be okay.”

“Of course we can take care of it, Abs,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes. “We've got guns and badges and computers...and a helluva forensic scientist.”

“That's all fine and good when the suspect is alive,” she retorted.

“Abby...” Gibbs warned. 

She turned to face him, “Look, I know you find it hard to believe. But this isn't just wishful thinking. These are our friends- our family. If I wasn't absolutely sure about this, I wouldn't have called them. But I know what I saw. And I'm not the only one who saw it. Not all of us can hit crazy on the same day, Gibbs! Sometimes things just happen that you can't explain. I don't know why he would stay behind and do what he's been doing, but the fact is he's here. And there's nothing in your rules that can explain why or how...”

Long, silent moments passed. Long, silent, eye-twitching moments... Then Tony took Abby's shoulders and turned her to face him. “I need you to...go to sleep,” he told her. “Please. For me.” He dropped his arms as he watched her face become slightly offended. Then he pointed in the direction of the living room. “Abby...couch. Now.” She hung her head, resignedly, before retreating from the kitchen. Gibbs smirked slightly, until Tony looked at him. “I...I need a drink.”

Gibbs cocked his head, not really much in the mood to protest. Then he headed for the basement steps, Tony following close behind as he descended. He wiped out a glass on his work bench and pulled down the bottle of bourbon he had on the shelf. After pouring a shot, he handed the glass to Tony, then took a moment to study the agent's face. “Somethin's buggin' you,” he said.

Tony let out a small laugh, “You can't pick out from the pile?” Gibbs shrugged as Tony sank down onto one of the saw horses. Tony's smile faded before he downed the bourbon. “My dad's last words,” he began. “He told me 'Everyone you love. Then you.'” He met Gibbs' eyes again. And after a shared moment of silence, Tony smiled, “Leave it to that bastard to do something like haunt me from beyond the grave.”

“DiNozzo...”

“Really though, boss...I know how completely full of shit it sounds. Trust me. I'm starting to think I might be in some kinda comatose state, dreaming all of this. But Abby's right when she said there's really no other explanation. I dunno who the hell she's got comin' into town...but maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear them out.” 

Normally, Gibbs would smack him upside the head. But the lost look in the agent's eye, in addition to the bat-shit crazy day they'd endured, he couldn't really do much else to argue. “I swear to god, if I hear one Ghostbusters reference, I'll shoot you myself,” he raised his brows.

“What if it's McGee who makes it?” he asked, genuinely worried.

“Guess you better have that discussion with him,” Gibbs smirked...


	4. Chapter 4

“This is it?” Dean asked as they pulled up in front of Gibbs' house.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, glancing at the text on his phone. “According to the message from Abby.”

“Alright,” Dean sighed as he put the car in park and turned off the ignition. “This should be interesting.” They piled out of the car; doors shutting within milliseconds of each other. Dean waited for Sam to get to the sidewalk before they started up the path to the house. Abby came out the front door, shutting it behind her, and they paused in their step. “Yes...I'll say again,” Dean smirked. “This should be interesting.”

Abby met them halfway, “You must be Dean and Sam,” she said as she approached them.

“You're Abby?” Dean asked.

“That's me,” she gave him a small smile. “So, I stayed here like you asked. Problem is, apparently he's not just after me.” 

“He went after someone else?” Sam asked with a furrowed brow.

“Our medical examiner, Ducky, he had what the doctors think may have been a mild heart attack.”

“Your medical examiner's name is Ducky?” Dean raised a brow.

“It's his nickname,” Abby explained. “It's actually Donald Mallard.”

“Oh...oh, I get it,” he smirked.

“Back to the uh...ghost problem?” Sam interjected.

“Right,” Abby said. “Look, I'd bring you inside, but everyone had a really long night. With Tony's insane random headache attacks, and Ziva coming here at the crack of dawn after being attacked...”

“Attacked by the ghost?” Sam asked.

“Headache attacks?” Dean added.

“Yeah, Ziva saw him, too. He attacked her at the hospital. Tony saw it during one of his headaches. Saw Ducky's attack, too. But Ducky wasn't really attacked...just kinda scared out of his mind apparently.”

Sam and Dean shared a worried glance before turning back to Abby. “First things first,” Dean said. “Did you figure out where the body is?”

Abby grimaced, “Oh gosh, I completely forgot...with everything that happened, and trying to to be thrown into the loony bin for not only suggesting the possibility that there's such a thing as ghosts, but actually convincing an entire team of NCIS agents to go along with accepting your help-”

“Wait...what?” Sam's brows raised considerably. 

“I thought you understood our situation,” Dean said with a scowl.

“Oh, I do! Trust me...I discussed this with Gibbs and Tony and they completely understand that no one is to mention your assistance in the matter to anyone.” At that, Gibbs came out of the front door and walked toward them. Sam nervously clenched his jaw. “Sam, Dean, this is Special Agent Gibbs. Gibbs, this is Sam and Dean,” she introduced them. 

Gibbs nodded, but they all kept quiet. Until Dean cleared his throat, “Uh...sorry. We don't usually go into these things...where people are already aware of what we're after.”

“So you two travel around trappin' ghosts?” Gibbs asked skeptically. 

Dean glanced at Sam, then looked back at Gibbs, smirked for a moment, then replied, “Among other things... Of course, all we have to go on in this case is a phone call.”

“What do you need from us?” Abby asked eagerly.

“Well...” Sam began, “I'd really like to talk to...Tony is his name, right?” Abby nodded. “But you said he had a rough night. So I guess...we could start by taking a look at where your medical examiner was found.”

“That your car?” Gibbs asked, glancing behind them.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, narrowing his eyes for a moment.

“67 Impala restored, right?” he approached the vehicle and glanced inside.

“On more than one occasion,” Dean smirked. 

“Nice ride,” Gibbs commented. “Abs, you stay here and keep an eye on Tony. I'll go with them to Duck's. Call me if anything happens.”

11 00 11 00 11

“I know we're not supposed to pry into who you are,” Gibbs said from the passenger seat. “But I don't like not knowin' who we're workin' with. Anything you tell me won't leave this car.”

“It's not so much that we don't want to tell you,” Dean explained. “But certain... authorities... have a different outlook on what we do.”

“Let's just say, most often times we end up in a 'wrong place-wrong time' situation. People tend to think the worst and any explanation we can give is turned over as being completely insane,” Sam added.

“Well, honestly, I can see why,” Gibbs smirked. “You kill a lot of ghosts with the guns your carrying?” he asked.

Dean glanced back at Sam for a moment before turning back to the road. “You can't kill a ghost,” Dean told him. “Clearly they're already dead.”

“Then how do you get rid of them?” Gibbs humored himself.

“Salt and burn the remains,” he told him flatly. 

Gibbs let out a small laugh. “What if they've been cremated?”

“Then you gotta get creative,” Dean smirked. 

“Why are you carryin' guns?” Gibbs glared.

“Iron bullets,” Sam replied. “It doesn't take them out, but it slows them down; buys us some time. Look, I know it all sounds borderline insane. That's why we usually skip the explanations and go straight for the problem without bringing anyone else into it.”

Gibbs cocked his head. “Fair enough. It's right up here,” he motioned for them to turn.

*~.~*

“Other than the ghost sickness, I don't recall ever dealing with a ghost that attacked purely on fear alone,” Sam said to Dean as they entered the house with Gibbs. “So why wouldn't he have attacked him?”

“Maybe he wasn't the target,” Dean suggested.

“He was found upstairs in bed,” Gibbs told them as he led the way up the stairs. “And Ducky's the only one livin' here right now.”

The brothers shared a glance as they followed him up to the bedroom. Gibbs stood in the room, looking around for a sign of struggle as the others piled in. The room seemed in order. “Iron bed frame,” Sam said. “That would explain why he wasn't touched.”

“How much do you know about Tony's father?” Dean asked Gibbs.

“That's personal information,” he replied flatly.

“We're just trying to understand why he's going after Ducky and your agents,” Sam explained.

“And if it's even a ghost we're dealin' with,” Dean added.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, then nodded, “Then you can ask Tony. I won't betray his trust.”

*~.~*

Gibbs led the brothers into the house, abandoning the need to be quiet as he heard the agents talking in the kitchen. “You boys hungry?” Gibbs asked them as he caught the aroma of breakfast.

“I'm always hungry,” Dean grinned. 

Sam made something between a grin and a grimace as he nodded, “He's always hungry.”

Gibbs smirked and cocked his head as he led the way to the kitchen, “Sounds like someone I know.” The agents looked up from their coffee as the brothers entered the kitchen with Gibbs. He started with introductions, “Tim, Ziva, Tony, this is Sam and Dean.”

They all shared small smiles and nods. Dean went to Abby, who was at the stove cooking. “You find out?” 

She nodded, “Breakfast, first. Ghost hunting later.”

“My kinda girl,” he grinned. “But really, you should wrap us somethin' to go. We should get this over with.”

“Actually,” Sam interjected. “I'd...like to talk to Tony, if that'd be okay?” he looked at Tony.

A flash of uncertainty crossed Tony's face for just a moment. “O...kay,” he replied.

“Only takes one person to...take care of...this,” Dean tried to be vague for Tony's sake. 

“McGee and I will go with you,” Gibbs told Dean. Then he turned to Tony, “You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah, sure, boss.”

“Any more headaches, you call me.”

“Don't worry, Gibbs,” Abby told him. “I'll take care of him.” She carried the frying pan over to the table and started serving each guest. Ziva finished buttering the toast and brought it to the table as well, with an extra plate for Sam. “Ziva, can you fix something for the guys to take with them while I talk to Dean?”

“Sure,” Ziva said as she went back to the counter. Abby and Dean went out to the porch. 

“So,” Tony said as he took a bite of his toast. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Sam swallowed a forkful of his eggs and glanced up at him from across the table. “The headaches,” he said. “And the visions.” Tony put his toast down and began pushing food around on the plate with his fork. “Before this, have you ever experienced anything like it before?”

Tony shook his head. “It's probably some subconscious part of my brain resurfacing,” he said. 

Sam appraised him for a moment as he took another bite of his breakfast. “Can I ask you about your father?” The room suddenly became quiet, but Tony didn't necessarily seem to notice.

“What'd you wanna know?” he asked, not looking up from his plate.

“Well...any reason he would stay around and try to hurt your friends?” he asked.

“Said he'd make my life hell,” Tony said with a sarcastic tone, but in all seriousness. Then he looked up, glancing around at the people in the room before settling on Sam. “Can we take this conversation out on the deck?” The two of them picked up their plates and headed outside. 

Ziva and McGee looked at Gibbs as he sat down at the table. “You really believe all this?” McGee asked him. 

“Right now, I'm not really sure what we're dealin' with,” Gibbs replied. “But since Senior is in our morgue, when we get to NCIS, I want you to start digging into the DiNozzo family in the database; find out if there's anyone he would've gotten to do something like this.”

“I could check his phone records as well,” Tim said. “Chances are, he could've made a call when Tony was trying to call him back and he hadn't picked up.”

“You believe he would have gone to this extent?” Ziva asked with a furrowed brow. 

“Wouldn't surprise me,” Gibbs replied, grimly. Ziva and Tim shared a glance.

*~.~*

“He told me right before he died, 'Everyone you love. Then you.',” Tony explained. “I think that's why my friends are being attacked. But I don't understand how.”

“But you see him in your visions,” Sam said.

“Well, yeah, it looks like him. But how can that be? My father had a lot of business contacts; friends in high and low places. But to put a hit out on all of us seems a little extreme... And why am I seeing the attacks? It doesn't really make much sense to me.”

“I know. And I understand, because it's happened to me, too.” Tony met his eyes. “The headaches and the visions; I've had them in the past. I've only met a couple of people who had this ability. But it seems like, for you, it's just something between you and your father. Were you very close with him?”

“Not at all,” he scoffed. “The opposite, in fact.” Sam gave him a questioning look. “Haven't really talked to him or seen him much since I was a kid. He was...a violent person. With me anyway.”

Sam clenched his jaw and swallowed. “Violent, as in physical abuse?” he asked quietly. He watched as Tony shifted uncomfortably. “I know it's personal. But I'm just...trying to figure out why; his motive for doing something like this...”

“Making my life hell even after his death?” Tony raised his brows as he met the man's eyes. “Honestly, I don't understand. He never wanted me; never gave a damn. Just, now and then he'd show up demanding my attention, and this happened to be one of them. He died on the phone with me, letting me know his plans... I never thought that this is what he meant...”  
Sam nodded, partly out of sympathy and understanding, and part apologizing and bringing an end to the inquiry. He could hear the Impala's engine start up on the other side of the house. As the noise faded out into the distance, a silence fell between them as they finished the food on their plates. It was Tony who decidedly brought back the conversation.  
“So, I've told basically a complete stranger some things I've only told one other person in my life. And that's after already knowing them for eight years, and because I trust him with my life. So maybe you can return the favor and tell me something about the two of you. Help me to feel like I didn't just hand my team's safety over to a couple of strange X Files fanatics...”

Sam smirked and let out a small laugh. “Dean and I are brothers,” he began. “Our mother was killed when I was six months old. Anything I tell you from here on out is gonna sound...completely insane and unbelievable.”

“Try me,” Tony insisted. “Can't be any crazier than what's been happening here.”

Sam shook his head; the corner of his mouth turning up before he continued, “She was killed by a demon. Our lives from that point out consisted of our dad's obsession with finding and killing this demon. As soon as I could get myself out of the 'family business', I did; went off to college. But that didn't last long. Dad fell off the grid for a while; Dean wanted my help finding him and I didn't want to. But then...my girlfriend at the time...was killed the same way as my mom,” he swallowed. “So Dean and I took off on the road to find dad. We picked up cases along the way; hunted whatever creature features that crossed our path. Found dad eventually...lost him... Throw in some crazy stuff here and there that I won't even begin to get into, we finally killed the demon that killed our parents. Since then, well...we've just been doing whatever comes our way. We get cases called in to us, kinda like you, but we don't get paid nearly as well,” he smirked. 

“I take it back,” Tony said in a flat voice. 

“What?”

“It's a lot crazier than what's happening here,” he gave an infamous smile that wouldn't be at all familiar to the man sitting beside him. Sam responded with a small bout of laughter which was quickly joined with Tony's. 

11 00 11 00 11

“You want to take DiNozzo Sr's body?” Vance asked Gibbs where he stood opposite his desk. “May I ask where to?”

“Autopsy's done. Tony wants the body to be cremated,” he responded flatly.

“And you came to me instead of Ducky, why?”

“Ducky's in the hospital. He's undergoing testing for what they think might have been a mild heart attack.”

A flicker of surprise showed on the director's face. “I wasn't aware he had heart problems.”

“He wasn't sick,” Gibbs said. “We're not sure right now. But I need to take care of this for Tony, right away. Just need your okay.”

Vance nodded. “How's DiNozzo, doing?”

“He's...havin' some trouble. Might need some time off. But he'll be okay. I've got McGee doin' some research downstairs; we think Sr might've had some kinda hit out on our team.”

“What makes you think that?” Vance asked, leaning back in his chair with a look of question on his face.

“Ziva was attacked at the hospital. She's not exactly...clear...on who it was.”

“Someone got a jump on David and got away?” Vance cocked his head. “Who do you think we're dealin' with, Gibbs?”

“Not sure. Might have something to do with Tony's father.”

“You've got agents out right now. You need me to assign you some help?”

“I'll let you know, if I do.”

*~.~*

“So this is Abby's lab?” Dean asked as he snooped around the various machines and slightly confusing collection of toys. Sam would've enjoyed being there much more than he was.

“Don't touch anything,” McGee ordered as he typed into the computer. “The only reason we're down here and not in the bullpen, is for your sake.”

Dean turned to look at the agent, “Well you're just a ray of sunshine, aren't you...”

McGee glanced over at him for a brief moment before looking back at the screen. “Sorry. It's...just been a really long couple of days. And a uh...really weird night.”

“Which is why we should be in the morgue right now, instead of waiting around here.”

“I dunno how you usually go about burning corpses,” Tim said. “But you can't just take a body out of a federal building without some kind of authorization.”

“Usually we don't have the luxury of authorization,” Dean smirked. “But it is refreshing not having to dig up a grave.” McGee shot him a look of disbelief.

“You find anything, McGee?” Gibbs' voice sounded as he walked into the lab and both men turned to see him.

“Uh...nothing, boss. He didn't make any calls out except to Tony, and I can't find anything out of the ordinary in any of his records.”

“Alright,” Gibbs nodded. “Let's get this over with. Palmer's loading the body into the van. You drive; we'll be right behind you...”

11 00 11 00 11

Sam set his plate in the sink and glanced at Ziva who was cleaning up the counter. She returned the glance, giving him a once over and a small smile before returning to her work. “Need any help?” he asked, returning the smile when she looked back over at him. 

“I believe I can manage. But thank you.”

Sam slightly cocked his head, “Are you from Israel?” She gave him a questioning look. “I'm sorry. I just...your accent...I didn't mean to pry.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Rule number six,” she said. “Never apologize; it is a sign of weakness.”

“Rule number six?” Sam questioned, turning to lean back against the counter.

“Gibbs has many rules,” she explained. “That is one of them.”

“Well...I hope they're not all as stupid as that one,” he laughed.

“Oh!” Abby walked in and mock-covered her mouth. “You better not let him catch you saying something like that.”

“You think it's a good rule?” Sam asked her.

“Gibbs has his reasons for every rule,” she defended as she took a seat at the table. 

“Well, I still think it's a dumb rule,” Sam insisted. “Admitting to being wrong and having regrets isn't a sign of weakness.” Ziva smiled, though she was no longer looking in his direction.

“I think that rule is mainly because he doesn't like handing out forgiveness,” Tony said as he returned from the bathroom and sat down beside Abby. “Most of his rules make a lot more sense. Like number nine, for example; never go anywhere without your knife.”

“And rule three,” Abby added. “Never be unreachable.” 

“Good rules,” Sam agreed. “Just how many are there?”

“Last time I heard, fifty,” Tony said. “But there could be more. Never know...”

“But they cannot be printed out,” Ziva said. “I already asked.” She gave Sam a grin before heading to the living room.


	5. Chapter 5

The funeral-home crematory was closed due to a ceremony that was being performed that morning. But after flashing his badge, Gibbs managed to get the permission needed to get the three of them in to do it themselves, with surprisingly few questions as to why.  
The large, musty room was in a separate building, for obvious reasons. It was decidedly more creepy than the last crematory they'd been in; well, Gibbs and McGee, rather. Only God knew where Dean had been. The walls were a rusty color, as were the large, industrial double-sinks that lined the wall opposite the ovens. Beside the sinks where a few large, refrigerator-sized storage cabinets. As Dean and McGee pulled open one of the ovens, Gibbs continued to examine the room. The cabinets were locked; sturdy metal with only a key-hole to serve as a handle once a key was in it. He tried to imagine what could possibly be in there.  
“Alright,” Dean's voice sounded and Gibbs turned to face his direction. “In my bag, there's a red metallic can filled with sea-salt, and a container of lighter fluid,” he told McGee. Tim nodded and turned to retrieve the bag from under the gurney. But in that moment, the overhead lights began to flicker. They all paused in their movements; McGee straightening as the room suddenly became very cold...

11 00 11 00 11

Tony and Abby sat beside each other on saw horses in Gibbs' basement watching Ziva show Sam some knife-throwing techniques. Not that Sam didn't have some techniques of his own, but Ziva had intrigued him and easily accepted being shown a few pointers.   
More than anything, it was entertaining. Abby nudged Tony gently in the ribs, causing him to glance at her. “Sam is really...tall,” she said in a hushed voice. 

“I'm tall, Abs,” he replied. “Sam is some kinda giant.” Abby simply giggled. 

Her laughter was cut short when she saw Tony put a hand to his head. “You getting another headache?” she asked.

“I thi- GAH!” he dropped his mug to the floor, causing it to shatter as his other hand shot to his head when the pain intensified. 

“Tony?” Ziva set her knives down and she and Sam moved over to the agent. She knelt down in front of him, “Are you alright?”

“Something's...wrong...” he choked out...

11 00 11 00 11

“What the hell?” Tim breathed, and they could see his breath in front of him. Without warning, one of the cabinets flew open, violently. He turned toward it, widening his eyes in confusion.

Gibbs looked at Tim, realizing, suddenly, that there was someone else beside him now. The shock of what he was seeing caused him to mentally freeze for a moment. “McGee!” he shouted right before the agent was flung into the cabinet; the door slamming closed and trapping him inside.

“Get down!” Dean yelled after he'd shimmied a sawed-off shotgun from his duffel. Gibbs dropped immediately and watched as the blast caused the ghost to disperse. 

“Wh-” Gibbs began, but was too confused to continue. 

“Here,” Dean tossed him a crowbar. “Get your agent out. I've got this,” he pulled the salt and fluid from the bag. Gibbs moved to stand just as the faucet in the sinks turned on full blast beside him. He stood there in awe for a few moments before moving to the cabinet.

“McGee, you hear me?” Gibbs shouted.

“Boss, you okay?” Tim's muffled voice sounded.

“Gonna get you outta there,” he said, then felt himself roughly pulled back; the crowbar slipping from his grip and falling to the floor.

Dean looked over just as Sr pushed the agent's head into the sink. “Shit...” he cursed as he quickly covered the body in salt. McGee was yelling something from the cabinet, pounding from the inside to try and get out to help his boss. Dean dropped the container and opened the lighter fluid and began to pour it all over the body. “Hang on!” he yelled, then tossed the container aside and pushed the drawer into the oven and closed the door. He punched the button to start the fire, and almost immediately, the ghost fizzled away in an ashy burst of flames...

11 00 11 00 11

Tony let out his breath when the pain suddenly subsided. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was no longer on the saw-horse, but lying on the floor with his head cradled in Ziva's lap.   
“What happened? What did you see?” Sam asked where he was kneeling beside Ziva.

“Gibbs,” Tony said through labored breath. “McGee and Gibbs are in trouble...” Ziva and Sam shared a glance.

“What do you mean?” Abby asked. “What's happening?”

Tony turned to look at her as he pushed up from the floor; Sam grasping his hand to help him up. “They were attacked,” he told her. “We need to go help them.”

“Where did they go?” Ziva asked.

“They...went to NCIS, but I'm not sure where they ended up taking the body,” Abby said, instantly regretting referring to Tony's father in that manner. But the agent seemed unphased by the comment.

“I don't know where they were,” Tony said as he sank back down, inadvertently, to the saw-horse. “I've never seen it before.”

“I will try and call them,” Ziva said.

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs fell backward to the floor from the sink, coughing against the intruding water. “You okay?” Dean asked as he knelt beside him. Gibbs could only reply with a nod, then motioned with his head toward his trapped agent. Dean went to the cabinet, grabbing the crowbar on the way, then easily pried the door open and caught McGee as he stumbled out. “You hurt?” Dean asked.

“No,” he replied, then looked over at Gibbs who was still on the floor and made his way to him. “Boss, what happened?” Gibbs shook his head and took Tim's hand as he helped pull him up to stand.

“Just another day ghost-busting,” Dean smirked.

McGee looked at Dean, clearly unable to process the information on his own. “What we just saw...that was...?”

“Yeah.”

“And when you turned on the oven...”

“Yep.”

“So...ghosts are...real?” Tim asked in a quieter voice.

“It would seem so,” Dean replied as cheerily as possible as he moved to repack his duffel. 

“Well h-how come we don't see them more often?” he queried.

“It usually takes an exceptionally self-deluded person, or someone who wants to stick around to make sure justice is taken,” he explained. “I'm thinkin' this guy was the former.”

“McGee,” Gibbs' voice returned. “Get the gurney back to Ducky's van and let's get the hell outta here. I'll talk to the manager and have them call us when this is done.”

“On it, Boss,” Tim replied, then set to work.

Gibbs' phone began to ring in his pocket and he pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID before answering. “Yeah, Ziva, what is it?”

“You are alright?” she said on the other line. “And McGee?”

“Yeah, we're fine,” he replied, then suddenly realized why she'd called. “Tony get another headache?”

“Yes. It was very bad, Gibbs. I am worried about him. I think he should be in the hospital.”

“I think...he might be okay, now. But yeah, I'll make sure he goes in to be seen when we get back. He okay?”

“He seems to be. But he seems a little disoriented at the moment. Gibbs, what happened?”

“I'll explain once I figure that out, Ziva,” he told her, then ended the call.

11 00 11 00 11

Tony was light-headed. The headache was gone, but he still felt off-balance and winded. Ziva helped him up the stairs and once he reached the top, he made a b-line for the bathroom. He was only vaguely aware of the concerned voices on the other side of the door as he retched his breakfast into the toilet. It was slightly confusing; this hadn't happened with any of the other headaches.   
“Tony?” Abby entered the bathroom as he finished, holding a small glass of water.

“Are they okay?” he asked as he tried to catch his breath.

“They're fine,” she replied as she crouched down beside him. “They're on their way here.” Tony nodded in acknowledgment and took the water that was handed to him. He rinsed out his mouth and spit it into the toilet before reaching out to flush it. “You feel better?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he allowed her to help him up. “I'm...really tired all of a sudden.”

“Think you can make it upstairs?” she asked as she led him from the bathroom.

“Yeah...yeah, I can.” Abby watched him anyway, trying to use pure will to assist him up the steps. 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked her.

“He says he is,” Abby replied, only looking over at him when she saw Tony disappear into the guest room. “But Tony's been known to...understate how he's feeling at times.”

Sam nodded in acknowledgment. “I just got off the phone with Dean,” he told her. “It's been taken care of. So I guess...we'll be heading out of here, soon.”

“Everything's gonna be okay now?” she raised her brows.

“Should be,” he replied. “But I want you to know you can call us if anything like this...or something else out of the ordinary, should happen.”

“Thank you, Sam,” she said as she gave him a hug. He was a little startled by it, but welcomed it anyway, and returned it.

“You're welcome, Abby.”

11 00 11 00 11

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a man of few words. But moreso now, probably than ever before, he didn't really know what to say as he and Dean pulled up to his house. His mind didn't want to believe that what had happened was actually real. But he'd seen it with his own eyes and there was really no way to deny it. There was no way he could actually prove it, but to deny it would've been lying to himself.  
As they exited the car, they noticed Abby and Sam walking up toward them. Gibbs turned to Dean. “For whatever the hell happened back there,” he began. “Just wanna say thanks.”

“Hey, it was a heck of a lot easier than most of the things we run into,” he said with a smirk. “But yeah...thanks for trusting us. Doesn't come with the territory much. Things would be a helluva lot easier if we had this kind of help all the time.”

“You've got friends at NCIS,” he told him. “But...tell anyone that, and there could be trouble.” He smirked as well as Dean, before the Winchester looked over to his brother.

“Ready to hit the road, Sammy?” 

“You're sure you won't stay for dinner or anything?” Abby asked.

“We've actually got some work to take care of in town,” Sam told her. “But thanks for the offer. It was really nice meeting you. All of you,” he said, nodding to Gibbs before walking around to the passenger side of the Impala. 

“Thanks again, guys,” Abby said as the brothers got into their car.

“You know how to reach us,” Dean told them.

“Same goes for you,” Abby smiled. And with that, the Winchester boys drove away. They watched the car disappear around the corner before Abby turned to look at Gibbs. He seemed to be staring ahead; not specifically focused on anything in particular. “Gibbs? What's up?”

He looked at her for a moment, then back to the road, “Just waitin' to wake up.” 

She smirked, “What happened while you were out? Tony seemed to think you both were hurt,” she explained. 

“Where is he right now?”

“Sleeping upstairs,” she said as they made their way back toward the house. “The headache seemed worse this time. He was out of it for a while; disoriented and barely made it up from the basement before losing his breakfast.”

“He tell you what he saw?” he queried.

“No. He didn't tell us much of anything,” she pursed her lips and squinted. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I wanna know what he saw,” he replied, dodging the question. “And I want you and Ziva to meet up with McGee at Bethesda. Check in on Ducky and see if they've found anything out yet.”

*~.~*

After sending Abby and Ziva out, Gibbs quietly made his way upstairs toward the guest room. When he reached the open door, he saw Tony curled onto his side facing away from him on top of the blankets. At first, he assumed the agent was asleep. But then he saw the man shiver and curl tighter into himself.  
Gibbs made his way into the room and around to the other side of the bed. Tony's eyes were open and staring at the wall and he didn't seem to realize Gibbs was in the room until he felt the bed dip as Gibbs sat down on the edge of it. “Boss...” Tony pushed himself up to sit, then, unexpectedly kept moving forward until he'd wrapped his arms around Gibbs' shoulders and squeezed him into a hug. 

Instinctively, Gibbs' arms went around Tony's back and returned the hug, feeling just how badly the agent was shaking now. “You okay, Tony?”

“You're not hurt...” he replied as he seemed to cling tighter.

“Didn't Abs tell you that?” his brow furrowed, slightly phased by how frightened Tony seemed to be. 

“H-he put McGee in the closet... H-held your h-head in the bathtub, under water...” 

“Wasn't a-” Gibbs stopped his reply, short. Something occurred to him in that moment, and he gently pulled Tony's shaking form away from him enough to see his face. “Your father...did he do these things to you?” 

Tony flinched, then dropped his head to look away from him before scrambling back against the headboard, “I'm sorry...”

“Tony...”

“This is all my fault. You'd all be fine if it wasn't for me...” he pulled his knees close to his chest.

“This isn't your fault,” Gibbs said, moving closer to him. “You did nothing wrong.”

“He wanted to hurt you because he hated me. He could've killed you...”

“But he didn't. And none of it's your fault, DiNozzo,” he told him sincerely. Tony put his forehead down on the tops on his knees. Gibbs moved to sit beside him against the headboard. “Have I lied to you?”

Tony lifted his head and looked over at him, wearily. “No. But you don't understand.”

“What don't I understand?” he asked. Tony shook his head and put it back down on his knees. Gibbs put an arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him a little closer. “You think you did somethin' wrong by caring about your team.” He felt the agent tense beside him. “Do ya think it's wrong that we care about you?”

“But he was right... You're my family; all of you. I knew that, and so did he. But you all paid the price...”

“But we're okay, and he can't hurt you or anyone else anymore. Made sure of that.” They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Gibbs couldn't hold back the question any longer. “What happened to Ziva,” he began. “He do that to you, too?” Tony's silence was all the answer Gibbs needed. “You know, if you ever wanna talk about it, you can talk to me. Ya know...since we're family.” 

“You don't need to say that, Boss,” Tony said, picking his head up to look at him. “You don't need to tell me stuff you think I just need to hear.”

“Hey,” Gibbs furrowed his brow. “Didn't we just establish I haven't lied to you?” Tony's eyes darted around somewhere away from Gibbs' face. But Gibbs put a stop to that by cuffing the agent's chin. “I'd have been proud...to have you as a son.” Tony blinked as his eyes began to sting. “Your father gave that opportunity away a long time ago. And it's not because of anything you did. It's because he was a sick man. He had to have been, the way he treated you. You know that, right?” Tony searched his boss's face for any signs of insincerity, but found none. Before he could reply, Gibbs' phone rang in his pocket. He scruffed Tony's hair before fetching the phone and answering. “Yeah. Gibbs.” 

“Boss, Ducky's being released,” McGee sounded on the other line. Gibbs listened as he explained what had happened.

“That's good news, McGee. Bring him here and we'll fix him somethin' to eat.” He ended the call and looked at Tony who was eager to hear the news. “Duck didn't have a heart attack. Not sure what it was but they ran every test they could think of and he seems to be in perfect health.”

“Good,” Tony seemed to relax considerably. “So...everyone is okay, then?”

“Yep,” he stood from the bed.

“And you're not...mad at me?” he asked as he stood as well. Gibbs turned to face him and gave him a knowing glare. “Right...right, boss. Of course not.” Gibbs smirked and turned to walk toward the door. “Boss,” Tony called after him and he glanced back at him as he reached the door. “Thanks.”

“Not necessary,” he told him. “C'mon, son. Let's make Ducky some lunch,” he turned and left the room. Tony felt an overwhelming sense of belonging and couldn't hold back a smile as he followed Gibbs downstairs...


	6. Chapter 6

2 days later...

 

The agents rode along silently as Gibbs drove toward a suspect's house. They were following a lead on the case of a murdered Marine. Her husband wasn't answering his phone, so they decided to go check him out.  
As Gibbs pulled onto the street, he squinted ahead at the car parked out front of the house. “Son of a...”

“That's Dean's car, boss,” McGee said from the back seat.

“Ya think?” he replied sarcastically before pulling up behind it. All four of them piled out of the car as Sam and Dean happened to be coming out of the house. 

Sam's eyes widened a bit when they saw the agents. Dean, however, had a partly smug look on his face. “Fancy meeting you here. What're the odds?” he said as they met half-way up the walk.

“What are you doin' here?” Gibbs asked with a stern look on his face.

“Same as you,” Sam relpied. “Following a lead.”

“Except, you're not detectives, and this isn't a ghost hunt,” Gibbs retorted.

“Well, that's not all we do, Gibbs,” Dean said. 

“The Marine's death you're investigating,” Sam said, “She's just one of three. I've got some notes in the car,” he headed toward the Impala and Gibbs signaled for McGee to follow him. 

“So you have some kind of idea who killed her?” Tony asked Dean.

“More like a 'what',” he replied. “Did your M.E do the autopsy yet?”

“He's doin' it now,” Gibbs answered.

“But no obvious outward indication of how she died...just like the others,” Dean said. “Sam and I checked out the morgue where the other two were. Their reports claimed that their hearts had been somehow crushed.”

“What would do that?” Tony's brow furrowed as Sam and McGee returned to the group.

“A demon,” Sam replied as he handed the folder to Gibbs. 

“A demon?” Tony laughed. “Like with horns and a tail and all that?”

“That'd make things so much easier,” Dean smirked.

“Technically, yeah, they're monsters,” Sam explained. “But they need a host in order to roam around. So they look like a regular person.”

“Except their eyes,” Dean added. “They'll change to black if they're provoked, or just flat out wanna show you what they are.”

“So, wait a minute,” Tony shook his head and tried to stifle a grin. “You're sayin' some demon is out possessing someone just so they can kill some random people?”

“We don't think it's random,” Sam explained as he motioned toward the file Gibbs was looking through now. “All three victims were women. After a little digging, we realized the first two had had abortions within a few months before being killed. If your M.E looks for it, I'm sure he'll discover the same for her.”

“Not to mention, two of the three's significant others ended up dead,” Dean added. “This guy being one of them,” he motioned back toward the house.

“He's dead?” Tony's brow furrowed again as the rest of the agents straightened upon hearing the news.

“McGee, call Duck and have him come down here,” Gibbs ordered as he handed the folder back to Sam and lead the way toward the house; Tony, Ziva, Sam and Dean following closely behind him.

“What happened to the third guy?” Tony asked Dean.

“Never found him,” Dean replied. They entered the house cautiously. “He's in the living room,” Dean told them. 

“Looks like a suicide,” Ziva said as she examined the man. “Single shot to the right temple; weapon still in his hand.”

“Just like the other one,” Sam told them. “Only thing we can't figure out is whether or not the demon is doing it, or the person. Sometimes the host can remember most of what happened while he was possessed. Chances are that he killed his wife; or rather, the demon killed his wife while in his body. And like the other one, he couldn't handle that fact.”

“Ziva, photograph. DiNozzo, bag n' tag,” Gibbs ordered before turning back to the brothers. “When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes before you,” Dean replied. “Don't take offense though,” he smirked. “We usually beat the authorities. But we knew where to look, in this case.”

“How do I know it wasn't you that shot this guy?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes. Sam straightened where he stood, glancing at his brother and clenching his jaw.

“Well...you don't. Not yet, anyway. But,” he smirked, “You're not an idiot, so you'll figure that out. I'm just hopin' you won't waste both of our time by lockin' me up till you do.”

McGee walked into the house, quietly, and stood in the doorway to the living room, silently watching over the actions of the team. “Get a hold of Ducky?” Gibbs asked. Tim looked up slowly to meet his boss's eyes and nodded. Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “You feelin' okay?” McGee shrugged and looked away dismissively.

This didn't go unnoticed from Tony, who stood and appraised the seemingly distracted agent. Tim was eying the dead man on the floor, an indiscernible look of anger on his face. “What's up with you, Probie?” Tony asked. 

After a moment, McGee met Tony's eyes, and the look he gave him made him flinch. “Why don't mind your own damn business?”

This caught Gibbs' attention and he stepped up to McGee, “If you've got a problem, McGee, maybe you should wait outside.” McGee blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes, they were completely black. Gibbs stepped back, then felt himself lifted and thrown back, pinned against the wall.

“What the-” Tony was frozen in place and Ziva dropped her camera as she stood in awe at the display. Dean pulled out a silver flask and both he and Sam jumped 'McGee' and tackled him to the ground before Dean began to dump the clear liquid over him. Sam began quoting something in Latin as McGee's body seemed to smoke from the clear liquid. But within a few moments, a thick cloud of black smoke came pouring from Tim's mouth and straight up through the ceiling. 

Gibbs dropped from the wall to the floor and Tony was temporarily shaken from his frozen state, to help his boss up. Sam and Dean still hovered over McGee, “Hey dude, you okay?” Dean shook Tim by the shoulder. 

McGee groaned and opened his eyes. Then, with sudden realization, he sucked in a breath and pushed to sit up, “W-what happened?”

“What do you remember?” Dean asked.

“I was...outside,” his eyes darted around. “And there was this smoke. It- it came at me, then...then I was in here and-” he looked around at his team member. “Boss, are you okay?” his eyes widened.

“I'm fine, McGee. Back might hurt in the mornin', though,” he replied. “What the hell just happened?”

“Was that the demon you were talking about?” Ziva asked Dean. 

“It would seem so. As for why it decided to come back, I'm not exactly sure.”

“So...how do we stop it?” Tony asked.

“There are two ways,” Sam said as he stood and helped McGee up. “One, we trap it and exorcise it back to hell. Two, we kill it with the colt,” he glanced at Dean. “Which would also end up killing the host.”

“How do we trap it?” McGee asked, his face a bit paler than a moment ago.

Dean cocked his head, “That's a little more difficult...we're gonna have to find it. Or lure it to us...”

11 00 11 00 11

As Ducky and Jimmy dealt with the dead body, the others stood outside and talked. “So you can kill a demon by shooting it?” Ziva asked.

“No...not exactly,” Sam replied. “The colt we have was made during the siege of the Alamo. It can kill pretty much anything; demon, shifter, changeling, vampire...”

“Whoa whoa whoa...” Tony held up a hand. “Just...can we just stick to the demon for now? I don't think I can...handle all this. I'm starting to get a headache,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry...” Sam grimaced.

“Anyway,” Dean took over. “This gun can kill the demon, but like we said, it'll also kill the host. Now, unless it gets way out of hand, we'll avoid having to use it.”

“All the women were killed here in the D.C area,” Sam said. “So, it's likely he'll be sticking around to try again.”

“Killing previously pregnant women,” Ziva confirmed. “But why?”

“Our friend, Bobby, thinks this demon might be tryin' to spawn,” Dean said.

“But, chances are the women figured out something was horribly wrong somewhere along the line,” Sam explained. “And because she terminates, he kills them.”

“Then goes off to find another girl,” Dean finished.

“Why does he not just lock them up in the basement until the baby is born?” Ziva asked, curiously.

“Well I think he's trying to be discreet about it,” Sam replied. “It's why he's taking the form of their significant other; trying to make everything seem normal so that he can eventually slip away with the kid without being suspected.”

“Obviously he's failing miserably,” Tony said.

“He's gonna kill the mother, either way,” Dean added. “But if he manages to spawn, he can change bodies and take off and no one would ever find him.”

“It's possible he's been doing this to multiple women at the same time,” Sam said. “There could be others out there right now. If he is successful, this child could cause some major problems.”

“We've seen one of these kids before,” Dean told them. “He's powerful. More powerful than a full demon. And if he wanted to, he could completely screw the world.”

“But he's not going to,” Sam jumped in. “He's a good kid. It was all a matter of who got to him first.”

“Where is he now?” Gibbs asked.

“No one knows,” Same replied. “It's best that way.”

“So...back to this demon,” Tony said. “How do we stop from being possessed like poor McExorcist over here,” he glanced at McGee who sighed in response.

Dean walked to his car and opened the trunk, pulling open the hidden weapon-storage area and propping it open with one of the sawed-off shotguns. The agents gathered around, curious to see the arsenal before Dean pulled out a small bag. “Wear these charms,” he handed each of them a charm to wear around their neck. “They'll work as long as you keep 'em on.”

“How come you don't have one?” McGee asked, skeptically. Dean glanced at Sam briefly before they both pulled at the collars of their shirts to reveal their tattoos.

“I'm guessing it's happened before,” Tony said.

“It wasn't pretty,” Dean replied. “And you'd be surprised how many of the bastards want in.” 

Tony got his charm on almost as quickly as Tim. “So, what do we do now?” Tony asked.

“We've been trying to find a connection between the women,” Sam said. “So far, we can't.”

“If there's a connection to be made, Abby can find it,” Gibbs told him.

11 00 11 00 11

“I can't believe I missed it!” Abby hopped up and down in front of her computer as Tony and McGee told her of the morning's events.

“I could've killed Gibbs, Abby,” McGee reminded her. “It's really not something to be excited about.”

“You're right,” she stopped bouncing and forced herself to straighten and put on a serious face. “We've got work to do. So get out of here and let me get to it!”

“Sam sent this with me for you,” Tony said as McGee made his way out of the lab. “It's supposed to keep you from being possessed...”

“Oh, how...sweet. But I don't need it,” she smiled.

“Abs...”

“I've got a charm,” she insisted, raising her brows. “It's a tattoo...and if you're nice, maybe someday you'll see it,” she turned back to her screen and missed when Tony cocked his head in response.

“But I'm always nice,” Tony insisted. “And I need verification of this...so-called tattoo-charm,” he raised a brow.

“You're just gonna have to believe me,” she said without looking away from the screen.

“How do I know you're not possessed right now?” he pressed.

“Oh for crying out loud,” she spun and took the charm from his hand and put it around her neck. “Happy?” she squinted.

“Not really,” he pouted. Her face softened and she rolled her eyes before leaning to say something in his ear. Suddenly, a grin broke out on his face, “Oh really?”

“That's why it'd be kinda inappropriate to show you right now,” she said in all seriousness before turning back to her computer. “Now go! I've got work to do!” 

Tony hurried out of the room with a smirk on his face as the elevator opened up. He and Tim boarded and turned around to stand side-by-side, and Tony glanced at him. “You ever see Abby's possession protection tattoo, Probie?” he asked with the smirk still heavily in place.

McGee furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what he meant. Then his eyes widened, “She didn't just show it to you, did she?”

Tony's face went slack, “You've seen it?” he turned to him and grabbed both arms; a look a purely mystical curiosity washed his features.

A smug grin found its way to Tim's face, “I don't kiss and tell.”

“You've kissed it?!” his eyes widened further. “McRomeo...I was so wrong about you, all this time.” The elevator doors opened as McGee's eyes rolled and he pulled away from Tony's laughable position.

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs entered the morgue after having been called down by Dr. Mallard. The room was relatively quiet, aside from Mr. Palmer, who was sewing up the unfortunate female victim's husband from their latest case. Ducky was seated at his desk going over the files on the other two female victims.   
“You have somethin' for me, Duck?”

Ducky turned to look at him, “Ah, yes, Jethro. More than one 'something', in fact,” he stood from the desk, taking the files with him and laying them on the one empty cold table before leading Gibbs toward the body of the female Marine. “The cause of death was, indeed, the sudden stopping of her heart. It's why it stopped that has me a bit baffled.” 

Behind them, a tray toppled to the floor and Jimmy scrambled to pick it up as Gibbs and Ducky looked over at the mess. “Sorry,” Jimmy said. “I- I'll get this up and...leave you two alone.”

“Leave it, Jimmy. Go take a break,” Ducky insisted.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he stood shakily and hurried out of the room. Gibbs turned to looked at Ducky with narrowed eyes.

“You'll have to excuse the young lad,” Duck told him. “He's been acting a bit unnerved since we found this unfortunate woman's cause of death,” he pulled her heart from her chest once again and held it under the light for Gibbs to see.

Gibbs squinted as he examined it, “What am I lookin' at? I mean- yeah, it's a heart...”

“These markings,” Ducky pointed out. “Five imprinted punctures; one of them slightly out of line with the others.”

“Like...fingertips?”

“Precisely,” he replied. “I don't know how, Jethro. But someone held this poor girl's heart and squeezed until it stopped.”

“There were no exterior wounds, Duck. That's not possible.”

“That's what I believed,” he said as he placed the heart down on the table. “That perhaps there was a preexisting deformity that she was unaware of.” He walked back to the first table where the files lay. “But as I read through these other autopsy reports, I found the same result in the other two victims. One thing I managed to retrieve that I didn't see in these reports, was a substance around those indentations. I sent it up to Abigail to be analyzed.”

“Anything else?” 

“Yes,” he looked down briefly at the files. “I confirmed that the other two victims had abortions shortly before their deaths. Our Marine, however, did not. She had been pregnant, but she miscarried; probably not more than a week ago,” he met Gibbs' eyes again.

Gibbs nodded and glanced back over at the girl. “And her husband?”

“Self-inflicted gunshot to the head,” Ducky reported. “As suspected. No sign of struggle. Jethro, do you have any idea what's happened to these women?”

“Unfortunately, I think I do,” he said as he turned to walk out.

“You won't tell me?” Ducky called after him.

“Ya wouldn't believe me if I did,” he said, pausing in his steps as the door hissed open, and turning to face him. “Hell...I hardly believe me,” he turned and continued out...

11 00 11 00 11

Abby's computer beeped and she turned from the evidence table to type on the keyboard and pull up the mass spec results. Her brows raised as she looked at the readout on the screen.  
“What ya got for me, Abs?” Gibbs said as he strolled in, not completely unexpected by the forensic goth.

“Perfect timing, as always, Gibbs,” she said without looking from the screen. “Not sure what this means, exactly, but the residue Ducky sent up from the victim is sulfur. Now, we all have sulfur in our bodies. It's a naturally occurring thing. But the concentration of it here is totally not right. The fact that it was just sitting on the outer walls of this woman's heart...there's no explanation for that. Except, of course,” she turned to face Gibbs, “Sam and Dean's explanation of what happened.”

Gibbs cocked his head, “Find a connection with any of the women?”

“Nothin'. Sorry, Gibbs. Tony, McGee and Ziva are still running financial records for all three vics and their significant others, though.”

“Thanks, Abs,” he set a Caf-Pow down in front of her and turned to walk out.

11 00 11 00 11

“What do we got?” Gibbs asked as he entered the bullpen; all three agents gathered around the big screen. 

“We couldn't find a single thing in common with any of the victims, at first,” McGee started. “And this still could just be purely coincidence.”

“No such thing, Probie,” Tony said as he swiped the remote from McGee's hand and pulled up the credit statements. “First victims ate at a restaurant downtown called Arzeal's. It was earlier this year, about two months before they were both found dead.”

“The second woman and her boyfriend,” Ziva continued, “Used his credit card at the same restaurant not even a week after that.”

“And our dead Marine and her husband,” McGee said, “Six weeks ago... In fact, they'd been going to Arzeal's every other Friday for two months.”

“They got married right before then,” Tony elaborated. 

“This is the only connection you found?” Gibbs squinted. 

“I know it's a long-shot, boss,” Tony replied. “But that's it. These people didn't so much as use the same gas station.”

Gibbs' eyes darted around the screen for a few moments, in thought. “Get a list of any employees that started within the time period this all began,” he told them.

A series of 'On it, boss' and 'Yes, Gibbs', rang out as they each scrambled to their desks. 

11 00 11 00 11

The elderly man dressed in a suit and tie stood patiently against the wall outside of the mens room; a towel folded over his arm. He stood tall as he seemingly watched nothing in particular. Seemingly, being the key word. He had been observing the couples in the restaurant all evening, whenever he didn't have to follow someone into the restroom and attend to their needs.   
One couple stood out; a younger couple on the far side of the room. The woman was quite lovely, and while her mate seemed a bit rough around the edges, that fact didn't particularly matter. He'd waited the entire evening for the guy to get up to use the restroom, and finally, now, he was getting up and headed that way.  
The bathroom attendant moved into action, opening the door for the man and followed him inside. He prepared the soap and towels as the man relieved himself in one of the stalls. When he heard the flush, he moved out of the way of the sink and allowed the man to wash his hands. Placing the towel down, he sat on the stool against the wall, “Are you enjoying your evening, sir?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied simply. 

“You have a very lovely wife,” he said, noticing the wedding band on the man's finger.

The man narrowed his eyes as he looked over at the attendant, “You've been watching us?”

“Just a bit. Not much for an old man to do as he stands outside of the restroom, you know,” he smirked. 

“Right...” the man nodded and picked up the towel.

“You wouldn't mind if I took the reigns a while, would you?” 

“What?” he shot a glance at him again. The attendant's eyes became black and the man flinched.

“Don't worry,” the attendant told him. “This won't hurt...”


	7. Chapter 7

“Mr. Greer?” Gibbs asked the elderly employee once he and McGee found him out back of the restaurant, smoking a cigarette. 

“Who's asking?” he replied flatly. 

“Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS,” he showed him his badge. “And this is Special Agent McGee. We have a few questions for you.”

“Christo,” Dean appeared from behind the dumpster and Greer spun around.

“What's the meaning of this?” Greer furrowed his brow. “Who are you and what do you want?”

Dean looked at Gibbs and shook his head. Gibbs narrowed his eyes as Greer met his gaze again. “Have you noticed anything strange since you've been working here?” he asked.

“Strange like how?”

Dean stepped beside him, “Strange like someone with black eyes. Or black smoke...and I don't mean in the kitchen.”

Greer straightened, “What's this about?”

“We're investigating five homicides, Mr. Greer,” McGee jumped in. “We suspect they all might tie back somehow to this restaurant.”

“Homicides?” Greer's eyes widened.

McGee handed him several photographs of the victims, “Do you recognize the people in these photos?”

Greer dropped his cigarette and took the pictures; eyes twitching as he looked at each one. “These...these people are dead?” he said in a small voice. “I had...no idea he would...kill them...”

“Mr. Greer?” Gibbs moved a bit closer to him.

“I don't know where to find him,” he looked up at Gibbs and shoved the photos at him. “It comes to me. Then he finds who he wants and goes to them...”

“Did you see who he went to this time?” Gibbs asked. Greer nodded. “Could you give us a description?”

“I can do you one better,” he said. “I know what table they sat at. If he paid with a credit card, it'll be on file...”

11 00 11 00 11

“So...how exactly do we approach this?” Tony asked from where the team was gathered in the bullpen. “This guy, Arnold Wallace, isn't military; has no priors. Either does his wife, for that matter. NCIS showing up on his doorstep asking questions... About what? Possible food-poisoning by a disgruntled ex-Marine-turned-chef?”

“Well, technically, all we need to do is get him to answer the door,” McGee said. “Confirm he's possessed, then let Sam and Dean do...whatever it is they do.”

“Perhaps then we should send them?” Ziva suggested. “I had a few conversations with Sam while he was with us. He mentioned that there are several occasions in which they needed to question people, so this should not be difficult for them.”

“If they go, they go wired,” Gibbs said. “Ziva, call 'em and have 'em meet us at my place.” Ziva opened her cell and dialed. “McGee, I want you an' Abby lookin' for the missing boyfriend from the second homicide case.” McGee nodded and headed out of the bullpen. “DiNozzo, you're with me,” he glanced at Ziva as she shut her phone. “You, too, Ziva,” he crooked his finger as he headed toward the elevator.

11 00 11 00 11

“Do not tell me that you are nervous,” Ziva smirked at Sam as she fixed the mic against his chest.

“Nervous?” he let out a small laugh. “I'm not nervous.”

“Probably the fact that we'll have an audience,” Dean smirked, glancing at Sam. The annoyed look on Sam's face only widened Dean's grin.

“We are not judging your performance,” she reminded him. “We will just be listening in the case that you need backup.”

“If this guy is possessed,” Gibbs said. “Where do you go from there?”

“We come back when they're out of the house,” Dean replied. “Lay a devil's trap somewhere in the house; best place would be under an area rug where it's unnoticeable. Then we wait for him to come back, hope he walks into it, then Sam works his Latin mojo.”

“What happens to the guy after that?” Tony inquired. “And his wife...”

“Lots of therapy, maybe?” Dean quipped.

“Sometimes they just block it out,” Sam added. “It hasn't been in this guy long. Hopefully, he won't remember much. And hopefully we can catch him while his wife isn't around to witness it.”

“What happens to the people who are possessed for longer periods of time?” Tony asked.

Dean glanced at Sam before looking back at Tony, “People who serve as meat-suits for a long time, tend to end up dead when it's all over. When they're possessed, if they get injured, fall off a building, stuff like that...stuff that'd kill a human, they don't die. But once the demon is pushed out, there's nothin' keeping them alive anymore.”

Tony chewed on his bottom lip as he let those words sink in...

11 00 11 00 11

Dean rang the doorbell at the Wallace residence and he and Sam waited patiently by the door. “What if he's not home?” Sam whispered.

“Then we park up the street and wait for him-” he was cut short as Sam elbowed him in warning of the door opening. 

“Hi,” Sam smiled at the woman who only held the door open a crack. “Mrs. Wallace?” She nodded, suspiciously. “Is your husband home?” Her eyes narrowed and they could both tell she seemed a bit flustered.

“Are you okay, Ma'am?” Dean asked.

“Who are you?” she asked quietly.

“We're uh...with the Health Department,” Sam supplied as he fetched the fake I.D. “We're trying to get in contact with anyone who's eaten at Arzeal's downtown in the past week.”

“Oh god,” she opened the door wider. “Is there- something wrong with the place?”

“It's under investigation right now,” Dean told her. “We got your husband's name from a credit card receipt and thought we'd come by and make sure he was okay.”

“Something's wrong with him, but we're not exactly sure what...” she offered them to come inside.

“Can you elaborate?” Sam asked as they readied themselves. 

“He was acting weird after we got home from the restaurant yesterday,” she told them. “Then...he just disappeared about an hour ago, and showed back up about twenty minutes ago saying he had no idea how he ended up back at Arzeal's. It's like he just woke up there, then came straight back home.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance. “Where is he, right now?” Sam asked.

“In the kitchen,” she led them toward the other room. Arnold was seated at the island in the middle of the kitchen, absentmindedly dunking a tea bag into a mug in front of him. “Arnie?” she said as she approached him. “There's some people here from the Health Department. They say there might have been something wrong with the food we ate yesterday at Arzeal's...”

Arnold looked over at the men with a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. Dean cleared his throat and took a step forward. “Christo,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Arnold seemed even more confused.

“Uh,” Sam stepped up beside Dean. “Sir, can you tell us what you recall since you dined yesterday?”

“Um...” Arnold looked back down at his tea. “I remember eating...the food seemed perfectly fine to me. I got up halfway through our meal to use the bathroom... There was this weird old man in there; the bathroom attendant. Then I just kinda...blacked out. Next thing I know, it's today. At first, I was confused. I walked back into the dining area and there was a different couple at our table. I called Susan and she told me she was home...” he shook his head. “I don't understand. She said we came home last night...I don't remember any of that.”

“He was wandering around the house like he'd never seen it before,” Susan took over. “We just ended up going to bed. I was really tired, as I've been getting in the early evenings lately. Then today, when he wandered into the nursery, he started asking all these...strange questions, as if he'd completely forgotten we were having a baby...”

Sam's face went slack about the same time as Dean's before they looked at each other with realization...

11 00 11 00 11

“Damnit, I knew we shoulda gone into the restaurant and put a devil's trap in that restroom,” Dean spat as they walked back to the Impala.

“There's no way we could've done that, Dean,” Sam retorted. “It's not exactly the kinda place you can deface without being noticed.”

“He's right, Dean,” Gibbs' voice sounded over their earpieces. “Just gonna have to figure out somethin' else.”

“Well, Creepy-Bathroom-Guy has seen me, which means the demon will recognize me. Sam's puppy dog eyes usually only works on women.” Sam rolled his eyes at that, and they could both hear Ziva's laugh through her nose in the background. “And he's seen Gibbs and McGee, as well.”

“Well, there's two people he hasn't seen. And it looks like we're gonna have to play his game if we wanna lure him anywhere...”

11 00 11 00 11

Sam finished spraying the devil's trap symbol on the underside of the awning at the back entrance where the employees would exit at the end of the night. “You sure this is gonna work?” he asked Dean. “I mean...if he possesses someone else tonight, he's not gonna come out this way.”

“The guy smokes, Sammy. He's gonna come out for a break eventually, right? When he does, we'll be waiting. And we even have a heads up, this time!”

“It is nice to have some help, I've gotta admit. Not that we couldn't handle this on our own...but it's nice not to have to watch out for cops all the time.”

“I've gotta say, these guys are growin' on me,” Dean smirked. “And I'm not just sayin' that 'cause they can hear me,” he said a little louder, knowing McGee and Gibbs were listening from the van out front.

Inside...

“Am I not a bit...overdressed?” Ziva asked Tony quietly as they entered the restaurant.

Tony looked her up and down. She was wearing a form-fitting, knee-length, sleeveless, red dress. Her hair was down and straightened, held up on one side by a seemingly invisible clip. She wore her silver chain, in which she'd decidedly replaced the charm, and hid both pendants under the front of the dress. And to complete the 'costume', she wore a wedding ring, which went well with the band Tony wore on his own hand. “I think you look great, Zi,” he grinned. 

She smiled at him, looking him over as well. Tony was wearing a black Armani suit with an expensive-looking grey dress-shirt. His suit jacket was draped over his arm as they waited to be seated. “You don't look so bad, yourself,” she told him. 

“Uh, Ziva,” McGee sounded over her earpiece. “We're not picking up Tony's mic very well.”

“It seems we will need to sit closer together then?” she said quietly.

“What?” Tony inquired.

“Can you not hear?” she asked.

“Why do you think I told you?” McGee said. “I think something's malfunctioning with his earpiece. But the mic should be working...”

Ziva moved very close to Tony and put her hand on his ear, smiling at him inconspicuously as she removed the earpiece, slipping it into his pocket before she whispered, “Your mic isn't picking up.”

Tony put his hand high on his chest and moved it around a bit; eyes furrowing in the process before looking around the floor. “What- it was just there...”

“Your table is ready,” the host interrupted his search, forcing him to abandon his quest. Both agents smiled and allowed the man to lead them to their table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Tony grinned as they sat. “So much for this going smoothly.”

“Do not worry,” she smirked. “He is supposed to be looking at me, remember?” 

“Yeah, but I've gotta lead him out the back, if necessary.”

“And if that becomes necessary, I will inform them. We are both right here. Now...what are you in the mood for?” she asked as she opened her menu...

Outside...

“Damnit, I'm hungry,” Dean said as he shifted in his seat in the car, not taking his eyes from the back door of Arzeal's. “I knew we shoulda picked something up on the way.”

“You're just hungry because you smell the restaurant,” Sam argued.

“Like that makes a difference?”

“Maybe they do curb-side service...”

“You think?” Dean raised his brows.

Sam gave him a look, “Seriously, Dean? We can eat when we're done. Just...chill out.”

“I'm just sayin', Sam...I don't think a cheeseburger is gonna cut it, tonight. Whatever the hell they're makin' in there, it smells damn good, and I want some of it.”

“You don't even know what it is,” Sam retorted. “It could be escargot.”

“It's not escargot. Escargot smells like...escargot. Whatever's makin' that smell has to be freakin' delicious. And I just don't see us bein' able to order after we smoke a demon outside their back entrance.”

“So, we'll get Ziva to bring you back some leftovers,” Sam shrugged. 

“Ziva will probably order a salad or something girly like that.”

“You do realize that I can hear you,” Ziva's voice sounded.

“You tellin' me you don't eat salads?” Dean asked. “'Cause if you bring me back somethin' good, this could be the beginning of a very beautiful friendship.” Ziva could be heard laughing through her nose again.

“Are you done, Dean?” Sam looked at him. Dean just shot him a look.

In the van...

“I swear, it's like listenin' to you and DiNozzo,” Gibbs said to McGee, covering his own mic. 

It didn't take Tim long to figure out which one sounded like Tony. “I'm getting some weird noises from Tony's mic. But I'm not sure what they are. Must still be in his shirt somewhere.”

“Ziva,” Gibbs said over the mic. “After you order, get DiNozzo to go to the restroom and check his shirt for the mic.”

“What about Greer, boss?” McGee asked.

“It appears that Greer is not the bathroom attendant tonight,” Ziva said quietly. “There is a younger man standing outside of the rest room in uniform.”

Gibbs shared a glance with McGee, “You get that, Dean?”

“Yeah...well, I guess we'll have to wait an' see if he's a smoker. Or get Tony to lure him out back somehow?”

“Damnit...Ziva, we need Tony to check this guy out. The attendant lookin' your way?”

“Consistently,” she said.

Gibbs sighed, “Well, so much for slippin' Tony your earpiece.”

Inside...

“I'm gonna go...wash up,” Tony winked at Ziva and slowly stood from the table and headed toward the bathroom. 

Ziva picked up her glass and put it to her lips before quietly speaking, “He is going in.” Hearing confirmation from McGee, she took a small sip of her drink and set the glass down as she watched Tony disappear into the mens room; the attendant following behind him. She looked down at Tony's empty chair beside her, then something on the floor caught her eye and she bent down to retrieve it. Her heart quickened as she realized what it was. “Gibbs...we have a problem...”

“What is it, Ziva?”

“Tony's charm...his mic was attached. The necklace must have broken because they were both on the floor here by his chair,” she stood and began walking toward the rest room.

“Might not be the demon in the restroom, Ziva,” Sam said over the mic.

“Either way, bring him out the back way,” Dean said.

It was in that moment that Tony came out of the restroom, seeming perfectly calm. He met Ziva's eyes as he walked toward her. “Are you alright, Tony?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he told her. “Let's skip dinner, okay?” he smiled and linked his arm with hers. “I'm not that hungry. Let's just go home.”

Ziva stiffened and her eyes darted around as he led her toward the front of the restaurant. “Tony, wait,” she pulled back. “We parked out back, don't you remember?”

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then shrugged, “Oh...right.” They turned and headed back toward the rear entrance...

In the van...

“Let's go, McGee,” Gibbs said as he headed out of the van. Both agents made a run for the back end parking lot. 

*~.~*

Tony and Ziva stepped out the back door; Ziva walked a little ahead of him and turned when Tony fell behind. He was trying to walk forward, but found he was held by some invisible force. He looked up above him, “Son of a bitch...” he said aloud. Then his gaze fell on the two familiar men approaching from the Impala. “If it isn't the Winchester boys,” he grinned. “I thought I saw you in this kid's head.”

“Too bad you didn't see the devil's trap in there, as well,” Dean taunted. “Sam,” he glanced at his brother to begin the Latin.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” the demon said as he pulled the knife from Tony's belt-buckle. McGee and Gibbs were suddenly beside them, guns drawn. Tony blinked and his eyes became black. “I know you don't want this meat-suit destroyed. I'll slit his throat before you can finish.”

“Guess I'll have to work fast, then,” Sam muttered and glanced at Dean. Dean looked over at Gibbs as the agents holstered their weapons and seemed to get the same idea. The two of them walked toward the demon in Tony's body as Sam quickly began to recite the Latin incantation, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus, omnis Satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta Diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica.”  
The demon raised the knife to the side of Tony's throat and pressed the blade in, deep. Gibbs and Dean moved quickly to grab his arms, trying desperately to stop him from slicing across, as Sam continued, “Adjuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque eterne persitionis venenum propinare. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallacie, hostis humane salutis, humiliare sub potenti manu die, contermisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terridili nomini quem inferi tremunt ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, domine.”  
The demon began to weaken; black smoke pouring from his mouth as he coughed, almost as if vomiting. Blood dripped frightening from the wound on Tony's neck, down into his shirt as he struggled against Dean and Gibbs' hold on him. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incuriso. Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legto diabolica adjuramus te cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque eterne perditionis venenum Propinare.”  
Ziva was screaming into her phone for an ambulance as the demon hacked and they could hear Tony's agonized screams mingled with the demon's as the smoke poured more heavily, along with his blood. The knife dropped to the ground... “Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias Libertate sercire, te rogamus, audi nos!” Sam's voice was loudest, now as he completed the incantation. The smoke surrounded Tony in a circle beneath him; orange hell-embers could be seen as it faded into the ground to nothing. 

Tony dropped to his knees and Gibbs held onto him, keeping a firm hand over the wound on his neck. “I've got ya, DiNozzo,” he told him. Tony coughed and squirmed in Gibbs' grasp, breathing in frantic bursts as he was clearly dumbfounded by what had happened. Dean and Sam crouched down in front of him. Sam handed Gibbs a cloth to press against the wound. “Bus is on its way,” Gibbs told Tony. “You're gonna be okay, Tony.”

“Ya did good, man,” Dean told him in efforts to calm him from his panicked state. “Gibbs is right; you'll be okay. Just gotta calm down. Keep your heart rate up like that and you'll bleed out.”

“Th-this...'s not what I...s-signed up for, boss,” Tony said as he tried to calm himself.

“Yeah, I know,” Gibbs told him. “McGee!” he looked up at his agent who seemed more pale than he could ever remember seeing him. “TOA on the bus?”

“I- I can hear the siren in the distance, boss,” he reported. 

“Ziva, call Duck; tell him to meet me us at Bethesda,” Gibbs told her, then looked to Sam and Dean, “You two need a place to stay the night, go back to my place. Door's open.”

“D-don't touch...the bourbon,” Tony said with a smirk. “Gibbs'll...kick y-your asses...” Gibbs couldn't hold in the smirk at the comment. But then, Tony went still in his arms.

“Hey,” Dean reached out and grabbed Tony's arm. “Hey, man, wake up,” he said a bit louder.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs lightly shook him, but there was no response...


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs stood with his back against the wall in the E.R waiting room at Bethesda. Ziva sat, chewing on her thumbnail, absentmindedly. Beside her, was McGee. Anyone else might have thought he was actually doing something on the overpriced cell phone in his hands. But Gibbs knew he was looking just past it to the floor somewhere ahead of him.   
It'd been a half hour since they arrived. Gibbs was about to come out of his skin. But Ducky, being the saint he was, came through the medical bay doors and headed toward the team who stood when they saw him. “Duck,” Gibbs said as he turned to face him. “Any word?”

“Anthony is doing quite well, Jethro,” he told him. They all let out their worry-held breaths. “He's lost quite a bit of blood, but is receiving a transfusion as we speak. It'll be a couple of hours before it's finished, but he seems to be coming around. If he's up for it, he can have visitors.”

“Well, have you spoken with him?” Gibbs asked.

“I wanted to ease your minds before going to his room,” Ducky defended. “But I'll go and speak with him, now.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” Gibbs patted the M.E's shoulder before he turned to go back into the ER. Gibbs turned to face his agents, “You should go home; get some rest. I'll stay here with DiNozzo till he's ready to leave here.”

“You will call, if anything should change?” Ziva asked him.

“Yeah, Ziva. 'Course.”

“Boss...you want me to stop by your place and...make sure Sam and Dean are...” McGee's sentence tapered off as he realized he wasn't sure how, exactly, to finish it.

“Make sure they're not robbin' me blind?” Gibbs quirked a brow. Tim shrugged. “If I didn't think I could trust 'em, I wouldn't have invited them to stay there.” 

“Right. Of course,” McGee nodded, nervously. “See you tomorrow, boss,” he turned to follow Ziva out. 

11 00 11 00 11

 

“Yeah, Bobby,” Dean said into his cell. “All taken care of. Sure there's nothin' else in town that needs its ass kicked, while we're here?”

“Besides Mark Souder?” Bobby said on the other line, causing Dean to smirk. “I'll have to get back to you on that. I'll keep an ear out and get in touch with you tomorrow.”

“'Kay, Bobby. G'night,” he said before ending the call. He looked over at Sam who was leaning back on the kitchen counter with a beer in his hand and a smirk on his face. “What?” Dean quirked a brow.

“You like it here,” Sam said with a grin.

“The hell are you talkin' about?” Dean scoffed, stubbornly, before taking a swig of his own beer and sitting down at the table.

“You like these people, admit it. I mean, I get it. They're federal agents and they actually believe us and have gone out of their way, and probably out of their comfort zones, to help us.”

“It's happened before,” Dean reminded him.

“Yeah. On a smaller scale,” he shrugged. “But this is different.”

“You tellin' me you don't like them?” Dean raised his brows in question.

“No, I like them. But you never really like anyone. It's...just kinda surprising. In a good way, mind you.”

“So, what now...you wanna apply for a job on Gibbs' team? We can be a couple of kick-ass agents, bustin' supernatural baddies on the side?” Dean asked as he leaned back in the chair. Sam furrowed his brow at the absurdity. But his smirk was still firmly in place. Dean sighed, “Look...so I like them. What's the big deal? I'm not allowed to like people, now?”

“That's not what I said,” Sam shook his head.

“Gibbs kinda reminds me of Dad, ya know?” he looked off to the side a bit, reminiscing slightly as he spoke. “Tough, hard-ass bastard, through and through. 'Cept he cares about his team; does everything and anything to keep 'em together.” After a moment of quiet, Dean looked up at Sam who had narrowed his eyes in question. “So I did a little research,” he immediately defended. “You think I can't work Google?” It wasn't Sam's intention to make him feel defensive, so he decidedly chose against giving him any more of a hard time. Dean sat forward and leaned on the table, setting the bottle down and slowly turning it in his fingers and he looked aimlessly at the label. “I just hope DiNozzo will be okay. He didn't look too good, back there. I'd really hate to be the one responsible for screwin' the team over like that.”

“Dean, what're you talkin' about? That wasn't your fault,” Sam sat down across from him and his brother met his eyes again.

“I shoulda made sure that rope wasn't worn out,” he retorted. “He would've been fine-”

“Dean-” Sam was interrupted by his cell ringing. He sighed and pulled it out of his pocket, squinting at the caller ID. “It's Ziva,” he stood and answered. “Hey.” 

Dean leaned back in the chair again and watched Sam as he disappeared into the living room. He rubbed his palms against his forehead, willing the headache to subside. Somewhere beside him, he heard a familiar ruffling sound and he turned his head toward the noise. “Cas?” he stood and faced the angel. “What are you doin' here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he replied flatly.

“Oh yeah?” Dean narrowed his eyes, slightly peeved. “For how long, exactly? 'Cause we coulda used your help a couple hours ago.”

“You didn't need my help, Dean,” Castiel told him. 

“The hell we didn't! These are good people, Cas! Good agents...and one of them could die!”

“I wouldn't have let that happen.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, “What?”

“Do you think it was merely a coincidence that you ended up here? That a...relatively simple man with no real evil beyond misdirected self-hatred, would be able to remain as a spirit, just to torment his own son, if it wasn't purely for the purpose of your coming here?”

“We came to D.C to take out the demon. The ghost was a side job that happened to fall in our laps,” Dean explained.

“Pardon me...When I said 'here', I meant 'to these people'. You were meant to meet them. They'll be of great help to you, as they've already proven.”

“What the hell ever happened to introducing people over tea?” he exasperated.

Castiel cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes slightly, “Would you rather it happened that way? Over tea?”

“C'mon, Cas. What the hell are you tellin' me? What do these people have to do with any of this?”

“They are more like you than you've, perhaps, noticed. They've sacrificed aspects of their lives to serve the betterment of mankind.”

“That's like...the code of all cops, isn't it?” Dean said sarcastically.

“Rules that not many follow to the extent that they have. They've become their own family, much like you and Sam. They've given up the possibility of having normal lives, families of their own... not just for the sake of justice, but because they love each other like man was intended to love one another. They would give their lives for each other for those reasons. I'm certain they would do so for you and Sam, as well.”

“Me an' Sam don't want them to sacrifice themselves for us. This hell an' high water crap is our curse, not theirs.”

“They've chosen to help you.”

“They kinda had it forced upon them, didn't they?” 

“If you're questioning whether I brought this upon them, the answer is 'no'. It's fate, Dean.”

“Oh don't gimme that fate crap, Cas. I'm tired of fate and destiny and all that bullshit. I'm not gonna let these people get hurt because all of a sudden you think we need their help.”

“You do need them. Has it not been an easier road, having them at your side?”

“Yeah, sure. But I'm not slappin' the 'easy button' when it puts their lives on the line.”

“You and Sam put your lives on the line every time you go out to fight,” Castiel reminded him.

“That's our choice. And, in case you haven't noticed, we've got angels on our team. We get killed and brought back because we're frickin' potential vessels. If one of them dies, there's nothin' keepin' them from stayin' dead.”

“No one is forcing them to work with you, Dean. It is, and always has been, their choice.”

“Dean,” Sam came into the kitchen, noticing then, that they were not alone. “Cas, what're you doing here?”

“Just tellin' me how it was fate that we met up with Gibbs and his team,” Dean explained in a fairly aggravated tone.

Sam momentarily cocked his head, then remembered what he'd come to tell his brother, “Tony's gonna be okay. Ziva said he'll be at the hospital for a couple of hours, but he'll be coming back here after that.”

Dean nodded, a bit relieved as he took a breath. “Good.”

“So, you'll be staying here, then, I assume,” Castiel questioned.

Dean and Sam looked back over to him. “For the night, at least,” Sam told him.

“There's more work to be done here. The demon you vanquished tonight was only the beginning,” Castiel informed them.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked. Castiel looked away for a long moment. Dean cast a glance at his brother before looking to Castiel again. “Cas!”

“I don't know,” the angel replied.

“Oh, c'mon, man! Don't gimme that 'they don't tell me much' line again...”

“Why would I need to tell you more than once?” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “The chain of command hasn't changed since I last told you this.”

Dean's hands rubbed over his face again as the headache became more prominent. “Why the hell are you here, Cas? To tell us to stay here in D.C where it's just crawling with feds that are out to get our heads? NCIS is just a tiny speck on the map, here. They can't help us outrun the rest of them. And I'm seriously not in the mood to play fugitives again.”

“You'll be safe, here,” Castiel told him. “This house will be discreetly protected. Once I know more, I'll be back to fill you in. Until then, please consider what I've told you.”

“Consider what?” Dean asked, but Castiel was soon gone from their site. Dean sighed.

“What did he tell you?” Sam inquired.

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs entered Tony's room, silently, after Ducky left. But Tony turned his head almost instantly, as if purely sensing his presence. “Hey, boss,” he grinned.

“Hey, DiNozzo. How ya feelin'?” he asked as he made his way to the chair beside his bed.

“Considering I almost bled to death after being stabbed in the neck by a demon, I think I'm doin' okay.”

“Well, good. Duck says they're springin' you after the transfusion is done. I'll be takin' you back to my place till you're outta danger from any possible negative side-effects.”

“You don't have to do that,” he narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, I do, Tony. And before you argue about it, I don't mind you bein' there. So stop thinkin' you're a burden. You're far from it.”

Tony blinked a few times as he met his boss's gaze. “Thanks, boss... I think that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me.”

11 00 11 00 11

Dean glanced up from Sam's laptop at the kitchen table, to see Sam asleep on the couch in the living room; legs draped almost inhumanely over the armrests, but obviously having no adverse affect on his ability to sleep. He smirked and looked back down at the screen where he'd been reading over the files he'd pulled up on the agents.  
He'd just finished reading about what they'd gone through to rescue Ziva from Somalia; the amount of risk it took to get her out. Then about what Gibbs had done to get his agents back after being taken from the team and sent off; Ziva back to Israel; Tony out to sea. He'd been hellbent on bringing them both home and keeping them together.   
What Gibbs had done tonight...well, stepping into a devil's trap to try and secure a demon was something Dean was fairly used to. Gibbs, however, saw past the danger and fear, if the man was even equipped with such a thing, and did what he had to do to save his agent. That's something a lot deeper than co-worker friendship, there...  
Now, as he skimmed through, going backward as far as dates were concerned, even the small things were great. Tony jumping into a river to save Gibbs and some girl; resuscitating them both. McGee talking down a crazed killer from shooting Abby over some book. The team, against all odds, going to great length to prove Tony was framed for murder...apparently on more than one occasion. McGee pulling Tony from the over-hang in a parking garage, where he would've otherwise plummeted to his death. The team going behind and against other agencies to prove Ziva's innocence in a staged bombing. Ziva taking out a Mossad sniper before he could kill Gibbs...   
Even farther back, Gibbs going so far as to take a security guard and biochemical scientist hostage in a medical facility, in search of a cure for a mutated strand of the Pneumonic Plague. This was fairly interesting... Tony had contracted a medieval virus from a mysterious powder found in a letter. Almost died... Dean could understand, completely, how Gibbs must have felt. And that man didn't have the crossroads demon to cut deals with. Dean was pretty grateful for that fact, though. He made a mental note never to mention the possibility to their knew friends. But the desperation...he knew it all too well.  
Castiel was right. Damned if that didn't piss him off to all hell. But he was right. Now he just had to hope that he was also right when he'd said they'd be safe. Looking out for Sam was a big enough job on its own. Dean hoped he would be able to do this for the team, as well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIn
> 
> *~.~*


End file.
